


Not Myself Today

by Hllangel



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Genderfuck, Genderswap, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a lot of issues and the Universe has a perverse sense of humor. So does Kono for that matter. </p><p>When Steve wakes up with the wrong body, he has to figure out what's wrong and how to fix it. Kono's known all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Myself Today

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Hawaii Big Bang](http://hawaii_bigbang.livejournal.com/), round 2.  
> [Art](http://everythingshiny.livejournal.com/271406.html) by [Everythingshiny](http://everythingshiny.livejournal.com). Go look and let her know how gorgeous it is.

It’s fuck-off o’clock when Steve wakes up. He desperately wants to go back to sleep but his phone is ringing, and Steve’s never been able to ignore his phone.

“Hello?” he says, not looking at the caller ID. His voice feels off, but he puts it down to the fact that he was just woken out of a sound sleep. 

“Oh, sorry, wrong number,” Kono says. She sounds puzzled, and the line goes dead. Then starts ringing again. 

He coughs before he answers, but his “Kono?” still sounds odd, even though his throat _feels_ perfectly normal. 

“Boss?” She sounds hesitant. “Are you OK?”

He pauses to take stock. Nothing’s broken, nothing hurts, but his body doesn’t feel like it’s his anymore and he’s not sure what the hell is going on with his voice. “Yeah,” he says anyway, because he’s the boss and she obviously called for a reason. “What’s going on, Kono?”

“Surf’s up, brah. You forget?”

“It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” He groans and rolls out of bed. He’d promised to head up to North Shore ages ago, then they’d caught a case and had spent way too many days in a row on stakeouts overnight, catching a few hours of sleep in the office when possible, and Steve had lost track of which day was which. He’d stumbled home late last night after Danny had kicked him out of the office because apparently the help he was giving was effectively doubling what they actually had to do. Or so Danny informed him before closing and locking the door behind Steve. 

“Pick you up in ten,” Kono says, voice way too bright and cheery for the time. 

His body feels off as he stumbles to the bathroom, scrubbing his face with one hand as he reaches for the light with the other. When his eyes adjust enough to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he’s expecting the dark shadows under his eyes. 

He’s not expecting the lack of stubble, the slightly larger eyes or the high, sharp cheekbones tapering down to a more narrow chin. The changes are subtle, and he still mostly looks like himself except for how he looks like a total stranger. 

And then he looks down and realizes that it’s not just his face that’s changed, and thank god Kono’s on her way because _fuck_.

***

By the time Kono pulls up in the driveway, the pre-dawn sky is growing brighter, but Steve hasn’t taken too much notice of it. He’s made it downstairs at least, and thrown on a t-shirt and shorts, both of which fit him perfectly the yesterday but which are now hanging off him. Thirty years later and he's playing dress-up, except that he's in his own clothes. 

Kono knocks and Steve shouts at her to just get in here, already. By the time he sees her, he knows she’s cottoned on to the fact that something’s not right, and she’s approaching him cautiously. 

“Shit, Boss,” she says when she sees him. 

The absurdity of the situation catches up to Steve suddenly and he laughs. “That’s all you can say?”

“Not sure there’s anything else to say, other than a good old-fashioned _what the fuck._ ” She’s smiling now, too. “So surfing’s obviously out this morning.” She starts digging through the cabinets. “You’ve got to have tea in here somewhere,” she says. “This isn’t a conversation to have over coffee.” 

“Second drawer from the left,” Steve tells her. “I’ll get the kettle.” 

Making tea isn’t something Steve does all the time, but he likes it enough that the procedure is ingrained, and he can do it without thinking too much. It’s good to have something to do with his hands (so that he doesn’t have to sit and stare at them and wonder if his fingers were ever that slim). 

Once they each have a warm mug in their hands, Kono guides him out to the lanai and they sit, watching the sky get brighter and the water change color in the bay. 

“We’ll skip over the big questions for now. I suppose we’ll figure out the _how_ and _why_ eventually. But first things first, how do you feel?”

“I woke up and I’m in the wrong body. How the fuck am I supposed to feel?” 

“I can’t tell you that, brah,” Kono says. 

“Not myself,” Steve finally comes up with. 

Kono turns to face him and Steve is aware that she’s really looking at him for the first time this morning. It feels like it takes forever, but in reality it’s probably only a minute. He crosses his hands over his chest defensively, and struggles with himself to keep his arms where they are when they don’t sit in position the way he’s used to. 

“Up,” Kono says, grabbing his hand and pulling him out to the lawn. Steve watches her crouch slightly into a defensive stance, but before he can ask what she’s doing she says, “Hit me.” 

“You’re joking,” he says. 

“Nope. You need to get more comfortable in that body before we go out and the best way to do that is to test it. You can’t swim because I’m guessing you don’t have appropriate swimwear and you don’t want to run until after we go shopping. Trust me,” she says, gesturing to Steve’s chest. “But we can spar.” She gives him her best shit-eating grin. “Come at me, Boss.”

And so Steve does. 

He’s not aiming to hurt her, or even really land a blow, but she’s right. He’s learning where his arms and legs end, where his center of balance is, and how good his reflexes are. He doesn’t realize that he’s sweating until Kono flips him neatly over her knee and plants him on his back on the grass. “Gotcha!” 

Steve groans, and flexes his back, both to make sure that he hasn’t actually hurt himself and because he’s not ready for round two. He should have seen that move coming. He wants to blame it on his new body and his crappy morning, but he’s pretty sure that she’d have been able to pull the same stunt on him regardless.

When she offers her hand and helps pull him back to his feet he realizes that yeah, the world is starting to slot back into place; he feels more grounded now. 

They sit back down and sip at the now-lukewarm tea in silence. When they’re finished, Steve carries the mugs into the kitchen and washes them right away. He hears Kono come back inside behind him. “Now what?” he asks. 

“Now we go shopping.” 

It takes longer than he thought it would to get dressed. His pants are too long and they’re dragging under his heels; his shoes are both too wide and too long, and he trips over them twice before he gets outside the bedroom door; Plus, his shirts don’t fit quite right; they’re too tight in the chest, and way too loose around his arms. He finally settles on a pair of board shorts and a t-shirt and a pair of Mary’s slippers (left behind the last time she came to visit) that are slightly too small and pinching his feet, but he can deal with that so long as he can wear shoes and stay upright for more than five steps at a time. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, as he takes the list Kono hands him and looks it over. The list is short, but Steve has a feeling that it’s more complicated than it looks because given how long it took him to find this outfit, he basically needs an entirely new wardrobe. 

“Mahalo,” he whispers in her ear once they're done and Steve's standing in his living room surrounded by bags and bags of new clothes. 

***

This time, it’s the alarm that wakes him up. He set it early so he could go swimming, his usual Monday morning routine. In the first few seconds as he’s moving from lying down to standing up he wonders why the hell his body is beat up and sore and _wrong_ before he remembers that, oh yeah, he has an entirely new body and he spent a good chunk of yesterday letting Kono beat him into the ground.

He’s hurting enough that he considers skipping the swim, but knows that he needs it. The salt water has always had a remarkable effect on his senses. Besides, the whole ordeal meant he was deprived of surfing yesterday. 

Swimming the same distance takes longer today, so by the time he gets back to his house he’s got just enough time to rinse off the salt water and get going. As he grabs the first outfit he finds from the neat, newly-clean stack Kono had left him with the night before, he makes a mental note to thank her for getting him a completely mix-and-match ready wardrobe. It means that the first thing he grabs actually looks decent. 

He pays little attention to his hair until he’s halfway to the office, when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and laughs. His usual policy of not doing anything and letting his hair stick up every which way looks ridiculous on his new features. He attempts to smooth it down, but nothing works and by the time he actually gets there he’s more or less resolved to keep it that way, because he doesn’t have a clue how to handle it. 

Kono’s car is in the parking lot when he pulls in, and she’s still in the car. When he doesn’t get out right away, she does. It’s like she’s been waiting for him, which, he reflects, she probably has. She knocks on his window and hands him a cup of coffee when he opens it. 

“Your hair looks ridiculous,” she says by way of greeting. 

“Thanks,” he responds. His tone is sarcastic, but he hopes she realizes that it’s more than that. 

Steve takes a few minutes to sip his coffee, and Kono waits for him, leaning against the side of the truck, enjoying her own coffee and waiting. 

“Let’s go,” Kono says. “Crime waits for no man.” 

“Or woman?” Steve unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door, finally ready to go inside. 

“I’ve got something in my desk for your hair,” Kono tells him as they fall in step. 

Somehow, that makes the whole thing better. Neither Chin nor Danny are in yet, and so Steve retreats to his office and Kono follows shortly carrying a small tub of _something_ that she uses to attack his pincushion hair. She manages to mold it into something she deems acceptable before running back to drop in in her desk, promising that she’ll pick up some for Steve after work and show him how to use it. 

Of course, the two minutes she’s not in his office is the exact time Danny picks to barge in. And when he takes in Steve-the-woman sitting at Steve’s desk with his legs kicked up, browsing through a case file he naturally assumes that Steve is a threat and draws on him. 

“Do not say a word,” Danny snarls. “Put the folder down and keep your hands where I can see them.” 

Not wanting to get shot, Steve complies. He wonders where the hell Kono is and how long it takes to put a little tub of hair goo back into her desk. 

Danny is obviously wondering the same thing. “Kono!” he calls, right before she materializes over his shoulder. “Did you know this woman was here?”

“Put the gun down, Danny,” Steve says. 

“You, stop talking. Kono, answer me.” 

“Put down the gun, Danny,” Kono says, her tone even. 

“You know her?” Danny still hasn’t holstered his weapon, but his posture has shifted a tiny bit, his grip on the gun just a bit looser. 

“So do you. That’s Steve.” Kono pushes past Danny and plants herself on the other side of Steve’s desk. She’s not in the way of Danny’s shot, but she’s placed herself between them, and that, more than anything else, gets Danny to lower his weapon. But he still doesn’t holster it. 

“Explain,” he says. “ _She_ is not Steven J McGarrett, ninja SEAL extraordinaire.” 

Steve slowly gets to his feet and walks around the desk, staying a few feet away from Danny. It’s not close enough to disarm him yet, but he’s putting himself on more equal footing. 

“It’s me, Danno. Ask me anything.” 

Steve sees Danny’s grip tighten on his gun, but it stays at his side. “What’s the first thing I did when I met Steve?”

“You drew your gun on me,” Steve answers. “I’m having flashbacks right now.” 

They both fall silent, not moving. Danny's damn gun is still in his hand. 

Steve looks at Kono, who shrugs and breaks the silence. 

“Are you two done yet? Danny, that’s Steve. Please don’t shoot him. The forms for workers’ comp are a bitch, and I refuse to clean up any bloodstains.”

Apparently Kono is magic or something because that’s what it takes to get Danny to flick the safety back on and holster the gun, which lets Steve relax again. 

“What the fuck, Steven?” Danny asks. “Or should I call you something else? Stevette? Stephanie? Katie? Emily?”

“Jesus, Danno, I’m still me,” Steve says, interrupting. He’s learned that it’s better just to cut Danny off before he really gets going. It only halfway works, because Danny leaves the name thing but starts in on the _whole_ thing. 

“I leave you alone for one day, Steven, and this happens. Only in Hawaii. Only on this stupid tropical _paradise_ island would my partner, _my_ partner, wake up in a different body.” Danny pauses and turns to Kono. “Anything else happen this weekend? Someone important get shot? Some big drug deal go down? Anything?”

“How the hell would I know?” Kono says, gesturing at Steve. “I spent my day beating this one into the ground.” She sounds frustrated, but her eyes give her away.

“What, and you didn’t call me? I’d have dropped everything to see that.” 

And just like that, the tension’s gone and they’re his team again; Danny’s his _partner_ again, and when Chin arrives it doesn’t change. 

He does one double-take at Steve, takes in the relaxed posture of everyone else and cracks, “Nice hair, brah.” 

***

They spend the morning doing paperwork. Or rather, Danny and Kono and Chin do paperwork while Steve continues to dig through old case files.

He’s about to crumple up the entire file and toss it in the trash when Danny pokes his head in. 

“Let’s go. It’s lunchtime. We’ll grab a sandwich and then head to the firing range.” 

Steve just raises an eyebrow. 

“You let Kono beat you up to get the feel of your new body. But unless you shot up the side of your house you haven’t held a gun since your magical transformation. And since you proclaim that you’re still _you_ , which I have no reason to doubt by the way, you’re going to be shooting at someone within twenty four hours and I need to be sure that my partner can still handle her gun.” 

Steve smacks him upside the head, but follows him out. 

“What was that for?” Danny complains, even as he tosses Steve the keys to the camaro and buckles in, waiting patiently while Steve adjusts the seat and mirrors then backs out fast enough to make Danny clutch at the door, just because he can. 

“I get it, alright? You’re still my crazy as all fuck partner. Nothing’s changed.” Steve looks over at Danny. “Now will you please drive like a normal human being and try not to get us killed before we even leave the parking lot?”

They’re on the highway before Steve speaks again. “You called me ‘her’,” he says. 

“What the hell else am I supposed to call you? You turned into a woman overnight. That’s who you are now.” 

“I’m still _me_ , Danno. I’m still Steve. I’m the same guy, I’ve just been – temporarily reassigned.” 

“So, you know how this happened? And that you’ll wake up maybe tomorrow or maybe the next day and be _Steve_ again, not Stevette.” 

“Not the point.” 

They’re on the highway now, driving down the beach to Steve’s favorite lunch shack, popular with the locals but virtually unknown to tourists, so they don’t mind when the wait is twenty minutes for a simple sandwich. 

“Then what is the point, Stevette? Enlighten me.” 

Steve sighs and grips the wheel harder. He doesn’t know how else to explain that he’s still _Steve_ and that he hasn’t changed at the core, even if the packaging is different for now, because he can tell that Danny looks at him and sees a new person. 

“Just stop calling me ‘her’,” is what he finally settles on, before changing the subject. 

They talk about everything else as they eat. Danno tells him about Grace’s latest masterpiece, and the fact that she’s taking piano lessons now; he rants about how Rachel’s new job is taking up even more time than his, even though he’s the one with the psychotic boss. They fight over music in the car and Steve wins, as usual. It’s a hollow victory, though, because all they’re doing is avoiding talking about the big pink, surfing elephant in the car. 

The tension that’s building up between them bleeds out abruptly when they get to the firing range and pull out their weapons. The headset means that Steve doesn’t have to hear Danny, he can block him out and concentrate on hitting the paper targets. He mentally paints Danny’s face onto the target for the first few rounds and fires two in the chest and one more between the eyes before loosening his grip and re-imagining Wo Fat. He gets through a clip on three different guns before he’s finally ready to step back from the targets and let Danny have a go. 

Steve watches as Danny fires a clip without any hesitation whatsoever, then calls the target forward to show off the cluster of holes in the middle of the target’s blank face. 

"Nice precision."

“Some days, Steve, this is what I what I want to do to you. I want to shoot you in the face because you’re too crazy by half for this island.” He folds up the target and shoves it at Steve’s chest before retreating to the car. 

“Shave ice?” he asks. It's a peace offering, and Danny knows it. 

“Anywhere but Kamekona’s,” Danny replies. 

Steve nods and they head for the stand that’s down by the office, grabbing two extras for Kono and Chin before going back. 

“Caught a case,” Chin tells them when they walk in. “HPD asked us to dig into this guy’s background.” 

“What’s he into?” Steve asks. 

“His name is Randall Evans, he’s a professor over at the University. They started looking at him when that girl, Carolyn Green, went missing. They’ve found some things in his background that are off, but that they don’t have the resources to fully tap as quickly as they need to.” Chin’s been working on the computer table as he talks and soon enough has an array of IDs up on the monitors. 

“So far, we’ve found five different aliases, and all of them used near college campuses where girls have gone missing,” Kono says before taking a bite of her shave ice. 

“That’s a hell of a coincidence,” Danny says. 

“That’s what we’re thinking.” Chin hits the tabletop a few more times and four photos pop up showing four different bodies, all of them naked, dirty, bruised and dead. “They’re held for at least seven days, starved and tortured, and eventually dumped close to home.

“So this girl, Carolyn, when was she taken?” 

“This morning,” Kono says. “HPD is coordinating the search for her, but they need us to find what we can on him, especially since they’re holding him until the end of the day.” 

“OK, Danny and I will take the house. You two keep doing what you’re doing. We need to know everything.” 

And then they’re off again, Steve driving as fast as he can to Evans' rental near campus. Danny’s yelling at him over how fast he takes the turns and did he really have to blare the sirens and run that red light because they almost got hit, thank you very much, and since Danny moved out here to be with his daughter won’t Steve just feel that much more guilty when he gets her Danno killed by being an idiot behind the wheel. 

When they finally get there, something’s not right. It’s mid-afternoon and there should be people here, but it’s deserted. Steve can only see two cars on the whole street, parked at least two units away from Evans’. “Call HPD,” he tells Danny. “We need backup.” 

They put on vests and wait, and Steve tries to forget how badly he fits into it right now, because even a poor fit is better than nothing if this search goes to hell. 

Except that nothing happens. There’s nothing rigged to the doors, no explosions. They find nothing more than a few fake IDs is the drawers (Three aliases they know, two more they haven’t seen yet. Steve bags those to take back to Chin), and as they’re cleaning up to head out, Danny gets into an argument with one of the HPD guys over the fact that he was called out for nothing.

He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more going on in this street, but they have no evidence and no reason to be barging into the other houses, much less a warrant to do it. 

“Still feel like shooting me in the face?” he asks Danny once they’re back on the highway. 

Danny shakes his head. “Only because then I’d have to deal with HPD even more.”

The new names bring in new rap sheets, and HPD has enough to hold Evans overnight while they continue to search for Carolyn. 

Danny’s the first to break. “I’m calling it,” he says. “I’ve read the same sentence three times and I still don’t understand it. I’m going to go home and hug my daughter and sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Steve follows suit, needing to be alone for a while. 

“Call me if you need anything,” Kono says. 

Steve nods and shuts the door behind him. He needs to clear his head, so he goes home and changes into his new running clothes and heads off down the beach, feet pounding on the sand in a rhythm so familiar that he can almost (running with boobs just isn't quite the same, no matter what the label on the sports bra says) forget how fucked up the last two days have been and just _be._

Nothing but the scratching of the sand, the roaring of the ocean and the pounding of his own heart. 

Perfection. 

***

 

Days pass and they get nowhere on the Evans case. HPD hasn’t found Carolyn, and the Five-0 is getting nowhere with their attempt to figure out why. They’re exhausted and snippy by Wednesday afternoon when Danny overrules Steve and sends everyone home to regroup. 

Naturally, Kono picks Steve up bright and early Thursday morning and they hit the surf before it gets overrun with tourists. The water feels fantastic until Steve shifts his weight in a move that is still second nature to him and manages to flip his board and go under. By the time he drags himself and the board back to the beach, Kono is doubled over laughing. 

“Nice form.” 

“Shut up.” 

They head back out into the water for one more wave (and so that Steve can do some damage control on his reputation) before rinsing off and heading in to the office. 

Danny and Chin are already there. Danny takes one look at them and throws up his hands. “You went surfing, didn’t you? Because we have so much free time right now. It’s not like we don’t have an urgent case. But I forgot. This is _Hawaii_ and there’s always time to hit the beach.”

“Next time we’ll pick you up on the way,” Kono tells him. “And you can watch Steve wipe out after botching a beginner’s move.” 

“Any other day, Kono, I would pay to see that,” Danny concedes. 

In the middle of it all, it’s nice to laugh, but Danny’s right, there’s a missing girl. HPD’s been staking out Evans’ house for days, but they’ve still got no idea where she is. 

“Danny,” Steve calls abruptly some hours later. He barely waits for the door to darken before he asks the question. “Was it just me or was something off when we searched Evans’ place the other day?”

“Quiet neighborhood,” Danny says, leaning against the door. 

“Let’s go.” Steve picks up his gun, badge, and backup weapon, and heads to the car. 

“Are you going to clue me in? I’m your partner, not the backup. You need to tell me what’s happening so that I can do all those things that you don’t. You know, like at least attempting to get warrants? Letting our other partners know what’s going on so that they, too, can help me in making sure that your stunts at least have a veneer of legality on them. But no, you insist on dragging me to the car without explanation.”

“That street was too quiet,” Steve says. “Chin! I need you to look into who owns all the houses on Evans’ block. I have a hunch.” 

Chin nods and bends over the computer. 

“You have a hunch,” Danny says. “Hunches do not get us warrants. Hunches do not stand up in court. Your hunch is not going to lead us to evidence we can use to put this scumbag behind bars.” 

Steve doesn’t respond to him. “Call me if you find anything, Chin.” 

They’re halfway to the house when Chin calls. “Three other houses on that street are rentals,” he says without any preamble. “All are rented in the name of Scott Barnes. The same Scott Barnes bought one of the other houses on the street two months ago.” 

“And I’m guessing Scott Barnes is tied to Evans,” Danny says. 

“Scott Barnes is Evans. Or rather, the other way around. It’s his oldest alias. He’s an investment banker from New York, and so far we’ve found five of his own aliases on his client list.”

“So the guy’s laundering money through his own investment group.” 

“That’s the shape of it. I’ve put in warrant applications for all of the properties and Kono’s on her way out with backup from HPD.” 

“Thanks,” Steve says. He steps on the gas and ignores Danny’s yelp of frustration when he takes the next corner at a higher speed.

Steve still isn’t quite sure what they’re looking for, but he directs the HPD teams to search for attics, trapdoors and hidden rooms along with all the standard things. He and Danny are in the house furthest from the one Evans had been living in. From the chatter on the radio, all the houses are completely empty. No furniture, nothing except the thin curtains that prevented them from just looking in the windows the first time. 

The house they’re searching is empty, too. But there’s a rug at the bottom of the stairs and it stands out because it’s the only personal thing in the place. Steve kicks it out of the way and finds a trapdoor. 

“Danny,” he says. “There’s something here.” 

“Oh good, here I thought this entire exercise was a waste of our time.” 

Steve wants to smack him, but holds back because there are more pressing things to deal with. “On the count of three,” he says, hooking a finger into the embedded brass ring. 

When he yanks the door open he finds a ladder down to an unfinished space. “Cover me,” is all he says before dropping down, bypassing the ladder entirely. 

There’s a dim, bare light bulb hanging in one corner, and Steve can make out a lumpy figure on a mattress in the corner. It has to be Carolyn. 

“Get HPD to secure this house and call an ambulance,” he tells Danny. “I think I found her.” 

After checking the rest of the room to be sure there’s no one else hiding in the corners, Steve holsters his weapon and approaches the figure. He can feel a pulse and she’s breathing, but she’s unconscious and he doesn’t want to move her too much until the paramedics can get her out. All of the other girls had been found with multiple broken bones and he doesn’t want to put her in more pain than she’s already in. 

It doesn’t take long for the paramedics to arrive and to lift Carolyn out of the basement, and then Danny drops down followed by a few crime scene techs and they start dusting for prints and combing for trace evidence. 

“OK, so your hunch was right this time,” Danny says. “I want you to repeat after me: This does not give me the right to disregard procedure in the future.” 

Steve just glares. “We need to go.” 

“Where do we need to go? Where? We found the girl and the guy is locked up.” 

Steve just moves for the ladder. 

“No, we are not going to casually drop by Halawa so that you can satisfy your Army-induced bloodlust.” 

“Navy,” Steve says automatically. 

“I want no part in this,” Danny says. “As of this moment I’m out. I wash my hands of you.” 

“Get in the car.” 

Danny does without complaint and Steve just smiles. 

Steve’s badge may cut it everywhere else, but when they get to the prison Danny has to talk him in because the picture on his ID no longer matches his face. Luckily, this is the kind of the thing Five-0 is known for, so there’s not much of a fuss made as Steve turns over his weapons and anything remotely sharp or dangerous. Danny just crosses his arms and taps his foot while he waits for Steve to finish. 

By the time the guards actually bring Evans out, some of Steve’s red-hot anger has faded, but it’s the smaller part, and even though he knows that he’s most likely going to induce a rage-stroke for Danny, he hauls back and punches Evans in the face, watching with satisfaction as the blood starts dripping out of his nose. 

“Two seconds. I turn my back for two seconds and the guy’s already bleeding. Christ, Steve. You are never allowed to interrogate anyone ever again.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Steve’? She some freak under her clothes?”

Steve is moving fast, ready to land his fist in the guy’s face a second time, but Danny gets there first and blocks his access.

“I ask the questions, here,” he says to Evans, rubbing his knuckles. “Me. That’s my job. Your job is to disregard the psycho in the corner and tell me what I want to know.” 

And so Steve stays in the corner, fuming. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, scowling at Evans because where the hell does he get off calling Steve a freak? What the hell does he know about anything? Blood is pounding in Steve’s ears and he misses most of what they actually get from Evans, which isn’t much, Danny tells him later. 

As the guard comes in to escort Evans out, Evans gets the last word by spitting blood in Steve’s face, and Steve finds out just how fast Danny can move when he’s suddenly being dragged away back to the guard station before he has time to fully react. 

He blindly puts all of his weapons back in place and when he finally snaps the holster for his gun closed he feels like he’s back on an even keel. Well, as even as he can be for now. Thankfully, Danny doesn’t question him while they’re still inside Halawa, and when they get to the car, Steve’s phone rings. It’s chin on the other end telling him that Carolyn woke up and will be OK. 

He drives back at a slightly more normal pace, even if he speeds into a few of the curves on the highway. 

***

When they walk into HQ, Kono throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Successful day, yeah Boss?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He’s exhausted, more than he should be for what happened today, but it is what it is, and despite everything he knows that there’s only one way to wrap up a day like this. “Drinks on me,” he says. 

“And he really does have his wallet this time,” Danny vouches. 

Steve hits him upside the head before disappearing into his office to find a different shirt because his has more grime on it than he’d previously noticed. There’s one in the bottom drawer, and he quickly strips the old one off in favor of the plain white spare, and only belatedly realizes that he probably shouldn’t do that with the door and blinds to his office wide open. There doesn’t seem to be a riot going on in the office though, so he’s pretty sure he got away with this one. 

Or at least he is until Danny gives him a wolf whistle when he emerges from his office.

"You may want to..." Danny gestures at Steve's face, "before we go." 

"If you're going to suggest I put on makeup --" He's speaking in a low growl, and some of what he's feeling, possibly all of it, punches through to Danny. 

"Calm down, Steven. I was merely suggesting you wipe off the blood. But, if the ramboette look is really your thing, by all means, run with it. I'm not gonna stop you. I'll just politely suggest that civilized people that don't get into fistfights with suspects every other day tend to make sure they don't have dried blood on their faces before going out in public." 

Steve scowls, but stalks off to the bathroom to splash water on his face, because Danny is right. He wishes he could get out of going tonight, but it is their tradition, and Chin and Kono have already left. Besides, he just knows that Danny is going to refuse make excuses for him to the others, because Danny can be contrary like that. Instead, he starts thinking of how he might be able to escape after one drink. 

When they get to the bar, the first round has already been ordered, and Steve gratefully grabs one of the full bottles sitting on the table next to Chin and swallows. He stays mostly silent as the rest of the team chat about everything that’s not work, because even though it’s been nearly a week, Steve’s voice feels wrong to his ears and he has to fight the urge to cringe every time he hears it. 

At the very least, no one’s really looking his way, where he’s slumped down in his chair, and he can almost pretend that it’s a normal night out. When the beers keep coming, he keeps drinking until he needs the bathroom. He excuses himself from their table and pretends that he doesn’t know Danny is watching him.

His hand is on the door when a big, drunk guy drapes his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Hey sweetie,” the guy whispers in Steve’s ear. He starts to slur something else, but Steve can’t hear it because in one swift movement he’s got the guy pinned against the wall, the offending arm at an awkward angle. Steve is pressed right up against his back, toes kicking the guy’s heels. Steve can feel his heavy breathing as much as he can hear it, and he leans in more, resting his chin on the guy’s shoulder to hear what he’s trying to hiss out. 

He’s only vaguely aware of the fact that the entire bar’s gone quiet, and that everyone is looking at him. Soon enough he feels yet another hand on his shoulder, but this time it’s accompanied by a very familiar voice. 

“Steve. Let him go. Come on, Steven.”

Steve lets go and lets himself be escorted out to the car. Instead of getting in, though, Danny crosses his arms and leans back on the hood. “What the hell was that about?”

And then he’s silent, waiting for Steve to respond, and it’s more important than he thought because Danny is never silent and still. 

Steve isn’t sure how to answer, because he’s not used to guys just draping themselves over him; he’s not used to the way people look at him now. He’s still himself, but his body is wrong, and people are just acting differently. 

Danny starts in again when Steve can’t figure out what to say, but his tone is much more gentle this time. 

“OK, let’s start at the beginning. What did he do?”

“He called me ‘sweetie.’” Steve’s looking at the ground somewhere near Danny’s feet. 

“And this is a problem because you’re a big macho SEAL and no one calls you sweetie. I get it.”

Steve starts pacing because he feels like he needs to _move_ or he’ll end up giving Danny a shiner too. “No, Danny, you don’t. He treated me like a girl.” 

“Well, to be fair...” Danny gestures to Steve. “You have looked in a mirror recently, right? You’re a pretty good looking girl, even if you are freakishly tall.” 

That gets Steve to stop. “Freakishly tall?”

“I ever tell you I like freakishly tall?”

“You’d have to,” Steve says, laughing. 

“Get in the car, you asshole. I’m taking you home.” 

They’re halfway back to Steve’s when Danny speaks again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, especially right now, but civilized men don’t throw down because some drunk guy hits on them. What is the matter with you? I’d ask who taught you that violence solves all your problems but I already know the answer to that one. But tell me, what’s wrong with a good, old fashioned ‘no thank you’.”

“I -- “ Steve starts, but his mind is blank now that he’s coming down from the adrenaline rush. 

Danny doesn’t give him time to put his thoughts in order. “I have seen many men react like you. I have seen people end up in the morgue because of guys like you. If this is going to be a thing, you need to figure out why so that you can cut it out. I'm not bailing you out of jail for a fistfight.” 

The pull into Steve’s driveway in the middle of the speech. 

“Now go sleep it off, big guy, I’ll pick you up in the morning.” 

Danny waits until Steve gets inside and closes the door before reversing out of the driveway. Steve watches from the kitchen window until he can’t see the lights anymore before he heads upstairs. 

Steve knows Danny is right; he overreacted by about a mile, but it was the first thing he could think of. The only thing he could do to get that guy’s arm off his shoulder as fast as possible; before anyone could see. 

Which is a truly absurd reaction, Steve observes, because he looks like a woman, and there’s nothing unusual about what happened. He does a quick mental calculation to be absolutely sure he never pulled a stunt like that, and says a quick _thank you_ to no one in particular that none of the girls he’s chatted up ever pinned him, even if most of them were capable because until he came back to Hawaii, most of the bars he frequented (when he had the time) were filled to capacity with off duty military. 

And that’s the root of the issue. 

Steve’s used to drinking with grunts and jarheads and the like. People he worked with, who could report him to his superior and kick over a can of worms that Steve doesn’t want to look under because he’s been sidestepping it his entire life. If he’s honest with himself, it’s probably the worst thing the Navy ever taught him. 

Steve groans and flops onto the bed after shedding his clothing and carefully putting his guns in the bedside drawer. Danny must think he’s a real asshole after tonight’s episode. More even than the thing with the sharks, but somehow Steve just knows that it’s not the same. Danny isn’t going to be bringing up tonight’s incident for laughs when he introduces Steve to new people or when he wants to make a point about how _fucked in the head_ Steve really is in front of the rest of the team. 

No matter how many times Danny accuses him of being psychotic, or offers to find him professional help, or even just stands in front of Steve and waves his hands around in an attempt to make his point, Steve’s pretty sure that Danny’s never entertained the thought that Steve is just an ass. At least, until tonight.

And that _hurts_. 

Steve decides to save the ‘why’ on that one for another time, when he’s had a few less beers and a lot more space between tonight and whenever. 

Instead, he downs a glass of water and a dose of advil and closes his eyes, resolving not to open them until the alarm goes off in the morning. 

***

 

When Danny picks him up for work in the morning, Steve is braced for something. A conversation, another rendition of Danny yelling at him for what happened; whatever it is, Steve knows that something is coming. 

So he’s not prepared for Danny to hand him a cup of coffee and simply ask if he’s feeling better. Steve drinks the coffee gratefully, but stays silent for a while. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Steve says.

“I know.” 

Something unclenches in Steve’s chest and he smiles as he takes another swig of the coffee. It’s hot and strong, black, no sugar. Just the way he always takes it. “I just - “ 

“I get it,” Danny interrupts. “You’re military.” 

As if that’s the rationale Danny uses for every crazy stunt Steve pulls. Except for the fact that Danny is normally shoving the crazy back in Steve’s face and telling him in excruciating detail how he’s not normal and how there are no excuses for why he is the way he is unless they put him in boot camp at age five and never let him out again. 

Steve wants to tell him that it’s more than that, more _personal_ than that, it’s not about the rest of the world, it’s about _him_ and everything he’s done since he was a teenager to stay on the right track. Only he can’t find the words, and then they’re at the office and whatever clarity Steve’s found is gone.

Kono walks out of her office as they walk in. Her hair’s a mess and she’s wearing the same clothing as she was yesterday. 

“The hospital called right after you two left last night,” she says. “Carolyn’s developed pneumonia. They’ve put her in a coma and on a ventilator, but they’re not sure if it'll help."

"Go home," he tells Kono.

She does, but not without a look at Steve. 

***

“So, about tomorrow,” Danny says on the way out. He’s got Gracie this weekend, and Danny had tentatively agreed to let Steve take her snorkeling. 

Steve cringes. He wants to say that their plans haven’t changed, that he still wants to take Gracie out and show her that even the hidden parts of the island are beautiful, but Danny’s tone suggests that he doesn’t want to confuse Gracie with this _thing_ that’s happened to Steve. 

“Tell her I’m sick,” Steve says, and almost chokes on the words. He hates lying to kids, but it’s probably for the best. “We’ll go another time.” _Once I’m_ right _again,_ he mentally tags to the end of the sentence. It nearly kills him to do it, and once he gets in his car he speeds off right away, exceedingly glad that Danny’s not in the passenger seat telling Steve that he’s a menace to society and that Danny would like to _live long enough to see my daughter turn ten._

He’s home all of five minutes before Kono calls. 

“Get over here,” she says. There's no room for argument in her voice. 

But Steve argues with her anyway. “I just got home." 

“Do you really think I’m going to let you mope around the house all weekend?”

“Because going out last night ended so well,” Steve says. 

“Give me a little credit, brah. We’re not going out with the others. Just you and me and one of the tourist clubs in Waikiki that you wouldn’t be caught dead in.” 

“I think you left out the five hundred tourists.” 

“Nah. We’re at the end of the season,” Kono says. “There won’t be more than three hundred. Maybe four.” 

Steve complies mostly because he really doesn’t want to be on his own tonight, and given his current condition, the people he can call are limited to Chin, Kono and Danny, and the latter’s already off the table. 

As it turns out, their first stop is Kono’s apartment, again. She hands Steve a beer before rummaging through her closet for a new shirt and shoes, then disappears into the bathroom to put it on. 

“You can change out here, you know,” Steve says after she closes the door. “We’re both girls.” 

The bathroom door opens just enough for Kono to throw one of her shoes at him, but there’s no real force behind it. 

“Still no idea why, huh?” 

“Nothing,” Steve says.

She comes out of the bathroom with her hairbrush and sits down. “My auntie used to tell me stories about the _Kupua_ ,” Kono starts. “Mostly, they were the scary ones. They’d eat people, destroy homes, provide something for the hero to come clean up.” 

Steve laughs, remembering some of the stories, too. He’d looked up Hawaiian mythology a long time ago, wanting to learn more about the islands that had adopted his family. 

Kono continues, “But, some of them could change their shape. They could appear as human one day, as a shark the next. But there was always a reason for it.” 

“Are you saying that you think I’m Kupua?” Steve asks. 

Kono hits him. “I’m saying that this isn’t random, whatever it is.” She disappears into the bathroom to put her brush down. “And that we’ll figure it out eventually.” 

“It’s the eventually part that I’m afraid of,” Steve admits. 

“Come on, Boss. Being a girl isn’t so bad.” 

Based off the look Kono’s giving him, Steve has no choice but to agree if he wants to escape without any bruises. 

Steve drinks his beer and skims the book on Kono’s nightstand while he waits. A murder mystery with surfing. It’s her style, all right. By the time she comes out, Steve is actually getting wrapped up in the plot and still has no idea who the killer is. 

She’s wearing the same jeans, but she’s put on strappy sandals and a new shirt. She’s also done something with her eyes that make them look even bigger, and Steve can’t help but stare. 

“Put your eyes back in your head, brah. I work for you.” 

“You’re not going to do that to me,” Steve says. 

She attacks his hair instead. “Do I look like I have a death wish?”

“You had me on my back last weekend,” he reminds her. 

She shrugs. “Beginner’s luck.” When Steve opens his mouth to protest she clarifies. “You’re a beginner and I got lucky.” 

He’d argue the point but given the whole _new body_ thing, he realizes that she’s right. About him being a beginner, anyway. “It’s more than luck,” he says, standing to give her a hug. “You’re good, kid. Now let’s get out of here before you decide to fix more than just my hair.” 

“The hair’s the only thing I _can_ fix,” she says, but she grabs her keys and wallet anyway, and they head for the door. 

***

It’s been ages since Steve’s been in a place like this. It’s hot and stuffy and crowded; the patio is no different. There’s a slight breeze coming up from the beach, but the benefit is mostly cancelled out by the immense quantities of smoke. 

Kono grabs his hand and drags him to the bar where she orders longboards for both of them. They stick close to the bar for a while, not trying to talk over the music, which would be impossible anyway, but just relaxing. The heavy beat is lulling Steve into a more relaxed state, and he can feel it sinking in, letting him forget how fucked up things are right now.

When both of their beers are empty, Kono squeezes his hand before moving out to the dance floor, the invitation open, if he wants to take it. For now, though, Steve just watches. Kono is letting go completely, and it shows. She’s soon got a crowd around her, and Steve just catches flashes of her face as people move in and out. 

Steve’s about to order himself another beer when he hears a deep voice at his shoulder. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Steve swallows and makes himself turn around before answering. He’s tall, military haircut, dressed in a plain white shirt that’s half unbuttoned. Steve’s gaze catches on the sliver of chest he can see and he momentarily forgets when he’s saying. When he finally manages to move his eyes back to the guy’s face, all he can blurt out is, 

“No thanks. I’m here with someone.” 

It’s misleading, even if it’s not technically a lie, and the guy takes the bait. 

“He’s a lucky guy, then,” he says, leaning in again so that he can be heard without shouting. Steve just barely notices the hot breath on his ear above the general heat of the place before the guy is disappearing into the crowd. 

Steve orders another beer and drinks half of it in one go, Kono materializing at his side when he puts it down. She’s got a knowing smirk on her face and she elbows him in the ribs, but he purposefully doesn’t meet her eyes and keeps drinking.

Kono eventually goes back to the dance floor, but Steve sticks close to the bar all night, and the bartender keeps up a steady stream of drinks. Between the heat and the noise and the alcohol Steve isn’t feeling like himself anymore, and it’s freeing. He finally lets Kono drag him out onto the dance floor somewhere around midnight, and when he feels someone wrap themselves around him from behind he doesn’t react, even though he can see that Kono is studying him closely. He just keeps dancing. The hands on his hips are warm and sturdy, and he likes the feel of it, he can feel the heat all the way into his bones, and it’s loosening him up enough that he can close his eyes and just let himself _feel_.

He stays like that, dancing with his mystery partner until the beat changes too much for him to pretend it’s the same song and he breaks loose, grabs Kono’s hand and heads for the door. He doesn’t look back, he doesn't want to know what his dance partner looks like, he just wants to let the ghosts of the contact linger as long as possible. 

Steve continues to hold Kono’s hand until they’re across the street and down by the water. Kono stumbles slightly as her heels dig into the sand, but she quickly rights herself and they move further down the beach, stopping only when the sand gets sturdy again beneath them and the waves threaten to hit their toes. He can still hear the pounding bass line, but it feels farther away now, the sounds of the ocean rushing up to greet him. 

The lights from the hotels and clubs by the beach here are light enough that he can see the white edge of the water as it moves back and forth on the sand. The ocean is familiar, and as Steve breathes in mouthful after mouthful of the warm salty air he starts to come back to himself, and he lets go of Kono’s hand, no longer needing it to anchor himself. 

She slings her arm around his waist instead, and Steve is grateful for the continued contact. They stand like that, looking out across the water, ignoring the various honeymooning couples walking the beach in their own moonlit fantasies, until Kono sneezes and the spell is broken. 

“Thanks,” Steve says. 

Kono giggles. “So about tomorrow night...” 

“We’ll see,” Steve replies, even though he already knows the answer. He wants to come back, but he wants to do it without Kono watching over his shoulder, even though he knows that she’s just watching out for him in her way.

“That guy you were dancing with, he was cute.” 

Steve feels his face heat up and looks away, even though he knows she can’t see him blush. “I never saw his face,” he admits. 

Kono’s smile is wide as she starts dragging him back towards the parking lot. “I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Steve McGarrett.” 

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s laughing now, too. “I’m still your boss, you know.” 

“And I’d love to hear you explain to Danny and Chin why you fired me. Besides, good luck finding a replacement willing to put up with your psychotic self.” 

“Hey!” Steve exclaims, voice ringing out louder than he’d meant it to. “I found Danny, didn’t I?” 

“And he punched you in the face the first day you worked with him. I don’t see you threatening to fire _him_.” 

Kono’s tone is light, but her words touch the edges of the truth. Steve will never fire Danny, because he can’t. He just _can’t_. And it’s not because no one else will work for him. He can’t find a direct comeback that doesn’t betray whatever it is he’s feeling, so he changes the subject and Kono doesn’t call him on it. 

They talk about everything else on the way back to Steve’s place. 

Walking up the stairs to his bedroom, Steve’s legs feel heavier than normal, but his head is clear and he’s _tired_. He opens his windows to catch the breeze, but pulls the sheet up around his shoulders. The ghost of the heat and touch from the club is almost too much sensation on his skin. 

He forces himself to focus on the arrhythmic sounds of the breeze and the waves and eventually manages to fall into a dreamless sleep. 

***

Saturday is Steve’s first day off since this whole _thing_ started, and for all that he wants to just sit and do nothing, he knows that way lies madness. He’s put one too many things on the back-burner and now he needs a distraction before he loses his mind. 

Instead, he focuses on things that need doing around the house. He fixes some minor pieces of the façade of the house, pulls up some weeds from the lawn, sweeps the entire house, and does all of his laundry. 

When he’s run out of legitimate things to do in the house (Steve would have considered some minor remodeling more if it didn’t require him to go out shopping), he grabs a beer and heads for the beach, sinking his toes into the sun-warm sand and closing his eyes. He’s finally starting to relax when he hears a car in the drive and scowls into his beer. 

He’s pretty sure it’s Kono, stopping by to convince him to go out with her again. Steve stays put, wondering if she’ll leave if she pokes around the house and finds that it’s empty. He should be so lucky. 

Sure enough, a shadow falls over his chest and he opens his eyes to scowl at her. 

“If you don’t get out of my sun, you’re fired.” 

“Funny, Boss,” Kono says, not budging an inch. She holds up the bag she’s carrying. “I brought you some stuff.” 

“You’re not about to give me a makeover, are you? I can barely figure out how to do my hair as it is.”

“Of course not!” Kono exclaims. “Well, maybe a little bit.” 

Steve makes a big show of shaking his head and sighing, but doesn’t make any further move, and Kono eventually sits down in the other chair, kicking her shoes off and digging her toes into the sand. 

“Are you going back tonight?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “I haven’t thought about it much.” 

Kono gives him a look; she probably knows he’s lying, but she doesn’t question it, and it’s at that moment that Steve knows that he’ll probably end up telling her what he’s thinking anyway.

“All right!” Steve throws up his hands, punctuating his point. 

Kono gives him yet another look, one he pointedly ignores, because he doesn't want to question where he picked up that particular gesture and why he’s using it now. 

“Nothing too drastic,” she says. “Just some clothes and a few odds and ends.” 

Steve looks more closely at the bag now, and he can see the telltale outline of a pair of heels, along with something soft, probably the clothing Kono mentioned. There are a few other sharp corners he can see, and he has a guess about what they are, but doesn’t want to question it. He has a feeling he’ll know soon enough anyway. 

“Fine,” Steve concedes, finishing his beer. “Let’s get this over with. “

“We’ll turn you into the prettiest girl at the ball.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Grace.” Steve tries to keep a straight face, and only barely succeeds. At least until he catches Kono’s all-out smile and loses it. 

Steve puts on the clothes she brought for him, and then sits him down at the table and tells him to close his eyes. After what feels like forever, but is probably more like two minutes, she proclaims him done and sends him off to the bathroom to look. 

And OK, he looks good. The effect is subtle, but his eyes look bigger and the green pops out more. He’s apparently looking at himself for too long because Kono comes in and slings her arm around his shoulders and starts tugging him back into the living room.

“I hate to say it,” Kono starts. 

“Bullshit,” Steve says. 

“You’re right. I told you so.” She picks up the shoes. “Now don’t sit down. Let’s talk shoes.” 

“Kono,” Steve warns. “You said shoes or makeup.” 

“No, I said you had a choice at the time. We did the makeup, so it’s time to try the shoes.” 

“You don’t wear heels,” Steve points out. 

“Not to work, I don’t.” Kono replies. “How stupid would I look trying to chase a suspect on four inch heels?” 

Reluctantly, he slips the shoes on. He’s been getting comfortable with his body all week, but the heels force his posture out of alignment, and his balance feels off. It’s possibly also a result of the fact that he’s balancing all of his weight on an area that’s less than that of the standard penny. He shifts his foot and feels himself slipping again, so he grabs the back of the nearest chair. 

“Lean forward,” Kono tells him. “Don’t balance on your heels. Balance on the balls of your feet.” 

“Walk,” Kono says, coming up behind him and prod him in the back. “I’m not letting you out until you can prove to me that you’re not going to fall over in five steps. I’ve put too much into getting you to look this way and blood will just _ruin_ it.” 

Steve takes what Kono told him about where to put his weight and starts walking. Hampered by the heels, he can’t take the big strides he’s used to, and he almost overbalances a few times, but he gets the hang of it fairly quickly. Or at least enough that Kono says she’s satisfied. 

“Now get out of here,” she says. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks. 

Kono just smiles at him and picks up the remote. “I’m staying here to make sure you don’t chicken out. You are going back to that club.” 

Steve sits down next to her on the couch. 

“I can’t. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he says. 

“Sure you can,” she says. “I think that’s what this is about.” 

“What do you mean?” Steve asks, even though he has a feeling that he knows where this is going.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” she asks, her voice quiet and even. “Dancing.” 

Steve knows what she’s doing, He’s seen her use that tone on witnesses before, and it pretty much always works, gets them to calm down and trust her, and tell her what they can. Seems that recognition of the technique isn't immunity.

“I --” He’s not sure how to put everything in words, so he starts over. “Yeah.” 

“Tell me you weren’t thinking about going back tonight,” she says. 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Which is why this place is even more spotless than usual, I’m sure,” Kono retorts. They sit in silence for a while, until Kono speaks again. “You’ve been in the Navy too long.” 

She’s cutting right to the heart of everything, leaving Steve open and bleeding and _feeling_ for the first time in way too long.

“I couldn’t, before,” he says. “Not after I saw one of my best friends kicked out when we were still in Annapolis.” 

“And that’s why Danny had to pull you off that guy the other night,” Kono fills in. “It’s about being seen.” 

Steve just nods. It had gotten easy over the years, especially after he met Catherine, who was was there when he needed her, gone when he didn’t and didn’t press him to talk about anything. 

“But now you _can_ , Steve.” She shifts closer to him on the couch, tucking her legs up behind her and laying her arm around his shoulder. “And no one will know. Even if someone sees you, it doesn’t matter, because you're not _you_ right now.” 

“Kono,” he warns. It’s the exact opposite of what he’d nearly had to burn into Danny’s arm. 

“You know what I’m trying to say,” she says, not the least bit sorry for the phrasing. “You can do this. And you really don’t need me around butting in.” 

“But you do it so well.” 

Kono smiles before giving him a shove towards the door. “Go on, get out!” 

He doesn’t know the name of the club Kono took him to last night, but he remembers where it is, and he heads back there, parking the car a few blocks down, taking advantage of the nearly-empty block to once again get the feel of his shoes. It takes about a block before he’s walking smoothly, stride increasing in length and speed as he goes. He’s nearly there when he realizes that he’s excited about this. He’ll never be able to tell Kono just how grateful he is for her, he’s glad that tonight it’s just him. 

It’s still relatively early, and the club isn’t full yet, and so Steve gets in without any problems, going straight to the bar and ordering a beer. 

“Let me get that.” 

The voice comes from somewhere over Steve’s left shoulder, and he turns, forcing himself to count to ten before responding, giving himself time to actually think about what he’s doing instead of just going with the first thing that comes to his head, which, frankly, is to run out as fast as the damn heels will let him. 

“Thanks,” he says instead, putting his wallet back in his pocket. 

“So are you here by yourself tonight?” the guy asks. 

And suddenly Steve can place him as the guy he’d turned down last night, and he turns to get a better look. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m Justin,” the guy says, “I didn’t catch your name last night.” 

Steve’s brain freezes. Somehow, despite having Kono rip into the farthest corners of his mind without breaking a sweat, they forgot to give him a new name. His first instinct is to say _Stevette_ , as he’s gotten used to Danny throwing it at him in random moments, but he doesn’t think Justin would get the joke. And besides, Steve suddenly wants to keep that one just between him and Danny. So he pulls a random name out of the hat. 

“I’m Jaime,” he says, forcing himself not to cringe as he says it. The last Jaime he knew was of of his SEAL teammates. At least it’s a name that works, Steve concludes. 

“So, what brings you to Hawaii?” Justin asks, leaning back against the bar. He’s a tall guy, even with Steve in these damned heels, but when he leans back it puts Steve on the higher ground, and he’s more comfortable with that. 

“Visiting family.” It’s partly true, anyway. “My brother moved out here a few years ago. What about you?” 

And then Justin’s talking about his assignment at Pearl Harbor, that he’s been here for a few months, and is just starting to get used to the beaches out here. 

“So, I take it you’re not a surfer?” Steve teases him, smiling softly despite himself. The music is too loud, and they’re standing too close, closer than Steve normally would feel comfortable with, but his head is clear, and he’s actually having fun. 

“You should give me a lesson sometime,” Justin says. 

Steve’s heart races a bit, but he keeps his breathing under control an just says, “Maybe.” 

After another few drinks, Justin pulls Steve out onto the dance floor. He’s holding Steve’s hand, and the one point of contact burns between them, as the beat and the noise from everyone around them hits Steve all at once. It’s invigorating, but it overwhelms him pretty quickly tonight without Kono to be an anchor point, and so after a few songs he drags Justin with him out into the cooler air and towards the beach. 

As soon as they hit the sand, Steve pauses to take off the shoes because he knows that he’s going to go down quickly otherwise, as he’s just barely got the hang of the heels on solid ground, and he doesn’t want Justin to see that. He has to let go of Justin’s hand to do it, and as he’s fiddling with the shoes he feels Justin’s hand on his shoulder. 

Once Steve’s feet are bare and he’s standing up straight again, he realizes that he’s now a few inches shorter and that he has to look up to meet Justin’s eyes. For a split second he has a sudden realization that _this is what Danny has to do all the time_ before he forces all thoughts of Danny out of his head and challenges Justin to a race to the water. 

Steve wins, but just barely. 

This is where he’s most comfortable, where he can both feel and hear the ocean, and so he grabs Justin’s hand again, taking a few steps down the beach, parallel to the water, and pulling Justin with him. They only get a few steps before Steve starts laughing.

“What?” Justin asks. He sounds hurt, even though Steve isn’t laughing at him at all, just at how ridiculous this whole situation is. 

He can’t explain everything, so he focuses on the most immediate part. “I was just thinking what a cliché this is,” he says. “I never thought I’d be taking a moonlit stroll with a guy on the beach.” Steve is looking at the sand as he says it, not wanting to look up, but Justin stops and turns to face Steve. 

Justin puts his hand on Steve’s cheek, and Steve feels as though the situation is about to swallow him whole. 

“May I?” Justin asks, and Steve just nods before tilting his head up and closing his eyes. 

The first touch of Justin’s lips is electric, and Steve gasps, gripping Justin’s arm so that he doesn’t fall over or worse, run away. The kiss is slow and soft, just their lips moving against each other, and Steve loses track of his heart beat, his breathing, everything but the sounds of the ocean and the feel of Justin against him. Eventually he has to pull away, but he tucks himself against Justin’s side so that they can continue on down the beach.

***

Once again, it’s fuck-off o’clock on Sunday morning when Kono calls him.

“Fuck off,” he tells her. He got home way too late last night and had been counting on getting more than a scant few hours of sleep. 

“Not a chance. We missed surfing last weekend, so we’re going now. So get your ass out of bed. I'm on my way; be there in ten minutes.” 

At this point, Steve knows not to go against Kono when she’s this determined, so he throws on his new suit and a pair of shorts and he’s downstairs on the lanai when she pulls into the driveway. After strapping his board to the rack on Kono’s car, he climbs in to find that she’s brought coffee for them both.

“So how’d it go with Mr. Tall, Dark, and not-as-scary-as-you?” 

It’s a good thing Steve hadn’t yet attempted to take a sip of said coffee because it would have just ended up plastered all over the window. 

“The hell, Kono?”

“I followed you,” she says, like it’s not a big deal. 

“You followed me.” 

“I already told you that, but you haven’t answered my question,” Kono points out. “Are you going to see him again?” 

Steve thinks it over. They’d exchanged numbers before parting ways outside the club, but as nice as last night had been, he wasn’t sure what to do now. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe.” 

“That’s the same maybe you gave me yesterday when I asked you about the club.”

Steve doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he says nothing and drinks his coffee. This early there are few cars on the road, but the traffic increases incrementally as they near the beach. There are already some people in the water by the time they park and drag their boards out, but it’s not crowded, and the waves are good. 

They stay out on the beach almost all day, rotating out every so often to warm up and grab water or food from the shacks set up nearby. 

“Do I have to beat it out of you?” Kono asks him at some point mid-afternoon. They’re sitting on towels close to the water’s edge, watching some of the more stupid tourists wipe out. 

“What is there to say?” Steve asks. “He’s a nice guy, works on base.” 

“Do you really not know what I’m asking?” Kono says, taking a swig of her water. “What happened when you left the club?”

“We went for a walk on the beach.” 

Kono starts giggling madly. “Of all people, I never thought you would turn into the Hawaiian tourist cliché. Moonlit walks on the beach. Danny’s going to lose it when I tell him.” 

Steve elbows her sharply. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Ouch!" She's smiling, though, so Steve knows she's just protesting because she can. "Try putting me on babysitting duty again and see what happens.” 

Her tone is light, but Steve has a feeling that she actually would do it. If nothing else then for laughs, because Danny’s reaction would be nothing less than explosive. 

“I kissed him,” Steve finally says. 

“Look at you, brah!” Kono exclaims. She’s smiling widely, and Steve looks away. “What else?”

“That’s it.” Steve shrugs. “We stayed out on the beach for a while, he walked me to my car and I came home.”

“So when are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know. I said I’d call.” 

“So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to call?”

“Maybe.” And really, that’s all Steve can give her, because he hasn’t decided if he wants to see Justin again.

Thankfully, she drops the subject, and they head back out into the water. They don’t leave the beach until much later. 

“You should call him,” Kono tells Steve as she drops him off at home. “It’s probably not going to be a long-term thing, but why not have a little bit of fun?” 

He doesn’t answer, but as she drives away Steve can see her smile. The first thing he does is go upstairs to rinse off the sand and saltwater and change into something that’s not his suit. 

When he’s put himself back together, the sun is just going down, and Steve grabs a beer and heads out to the lanai, deliberately leaving his phone in the kitchen. This had been so easy with Catherine. She’d call him or he’d call her if they knew they’d be in the same area for any given amount of time. Steve doesn’t want to lead Justin on, but whatever is happening can’t happen forever. (Steve does not even want to think of the possibility that it could, because if he does he’ll go crazy. Well, more crazy. Danny is constantly accusing him of being off his rocker already.) 

But how many times has he done this from the other side? Spent a week in port, hooked up with a girl a few times then left? OK, maybe he hasn’t, but that’s only because for some reason he’s got Catherine. His teammates, however, have always been a different story. Hell, even Danny’s occasionally come back on Monday morning with story that doesn’t involve Grace. 

So maybe it’s not completely out of the question, that this could be just a quick fling. And maybe there was something to the cliched Hawaiian romantic getaway thing, because last night had been _fun_. 

It can wait until morning, though, because it’s peaceful out here, and Steve doesn’t want to move just yet. Which, of course, is when his phone starts ringing. 

Steve vaults to answer it before it goes to voicemail just in case it's Justin, because he hadn’t bothered to change the message in the hopes that he’s wake up some morning and find himself changed back into himself. In his rush, he doesn’t even look at the caller ID before answering. 

“I’m on my way over,” Danny says. “With longboards.” And then he hangs up, leaving Steve no room to protest the invasion, which he definitely wants to do, after the way Danny had blown off their plans for the weekend. Then again, it’s not like he’d be able to do anything anyway. 

The door’s unlocked, so when Danny does show up, he comes right in without bothering to knock. Steve’s back out on the lanai and Danny finds him pretty quickly, handing over two things immediately: a beer and a piece of printer paper folded in half. Steve takes a gulp of the beer gratefully, as his own has just run out, then he looks at the paper. 

“It’s from Grace,” Danny explains, sitting down. “I told her you were sick this weekend and she made me promise to bring it over before going home.” 

“Right,” Steve says. He can understand why Danny didn't want him to see Grace, but it doesn’t mean he’s not pissed off that Danny didn’t even _try_ to see if Grace would understand. 

When he does unfold the paper, he finds that it’s a get well card, with a picture of brightly colored fish and two people swimming. He assumes that it’s him in the picture, partly because Grace knows her Danno’s stance on swimming, but mostly because he’s got black hair. 

“Tell her thanks,” Steve says, tucking the card under one of the cushions on the chair so that it doesn’t blow away. 

The silence is awkward after that. Steve has no idea why Danny isn’t talking, because normally Steve can’t get him to stop.

“How was the weekend?” Steve finally asks, because there’s nothing else to do at this point but make small talk. 

“Fine,” Danny says. 

Steve drinks about half the beer in one go. It shouldn’t be this awkward, but it is, and he doesn’t have a clue where to poke Danny to get him going again, even though he really should. 

“So, where’s Grace now? Don’t you normally have her until Monday mornings?” 

Steve probably should have seen the explosion coming, because Grace is Danny’s favorite thing in the world, and anything that keeps him from spending time with her causes bad reactions. 

“There’s some project for school that Rachel just _had_ to do with her because she’d promised to help. Apparently I’m not good enough to help my own daughter with a school project, even though I moved my entire _life_ out to this god damned island for her.”

There’s not really anything to say to that, because it’s nothing that Steve hasn’t heard thousands of times before tonight. 

“You should put that card on your fridge before you forget,” Danny says, after a pause. “Or next time I bring Grace over here _you_ can explain why it’s not displayed prominently for everyone to see, and I claim no responsibility for the consequences.” 

Steve lets out a breath at the way Danny just assumes that Grace will see his fridge at some point in the near future, and that she’ll be disappointed when her artwork isn’t featured. He’s not sure exactly why this particular assumption is affecting him quite so much, so he picks up the card and carries it inside. He puts it on the fridge for now, and tells himself that he will eventually get it framed just to see Danny’s reaction at his daughter’s card hanging on Steve’s wall. 

The bright colors of the card remind Steve of the contrast between what his life was before the Five-0 (before _Danny_ ) and what it is now, where he has friends that aren’t just other members of his unit and a family that he’s built himself. That’s what it is, Steve realizes. _Ohana_. 

He cracks another two bottles before heading back out to the lanai, smiling, and it seems that his sudden good mood is contagious because when he gets there Danny’s bad mood seems to have evaporated. 

“Admit it,” Steve says. “You like this island.” It’s a challenge, and Danny’s never been able to back down from a challenge. 

“I do not like this island. It’s too hot, there are too many damned beaches filled with tourists and boys who would love nothing more than to see my daughter in a bikini, too many _pineapples_ and too many people trying to kill me on a regular basis. You, my friend,” he points at Steve, “are included in the list of people trying to kill me, by the way.”

“No one took a shot at us this week,” Steve protests. 

“Your driving is literally going to get me killed. Did they not teach you which pedal makes the car stop when you learned to drive? Or did the SEALs teach you to just ignore it at all costs in some sort of misguided brainwashing attempt?” 

“First thing they teach us is how to switch off the safety on a gun,” Steve says, laughing. “I already knew how to drive when I joined up.” 

“So driving is lesson number two. And don’t you _dare_ tell me anything different, McGarrett. I know when you’re lying to me.” 

Eventually they move inside and Steve tosses some fish on the grill and rounds out dinner with salad and rice, provoking Danny to complain that it’s so healthy it has to be terrible for you, _how can anyone out here survive on nothing but greens and fish?_

“Malasadas,” Steve reminds him, and grins as Danny finishes off his entire plate. He neglects to mention that the dressing for the salad contains pineapple juice. Especially after he catches Danny wiping up the last few drops from his plate and licking it off his fingers.

***

Monday morning starts like most Mondays, with lots of coffee, half a dozen malasadas shared around, and a lot of loud yelling and crashes coming from Danny’s office. Well, it’s mostly yelling, Steve observes, lots of four letter words and most likely a lot of waving his arms around.

Which is exactly how Steve catches him at 11:30 when he desperately needs coffee and there’s been a particularly loud _bang_ from Danny’s office that probably will result in either a work order or a requisition for a new piece of office furniture. 

And Danny thinks that _Steve_ is high maintenance.

Steve has barely opened the door before Danny is on his feet and coming around the desk saying, “Yes, let’s go.” 

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Steve points out. 

“I don’t care. It’s somewhere that’s not this office where there are no mile-high stacks of paperwork waiting for me. I’d also say something about leaving the psychotic boss behind except that he’s coming with me.” 

Steve doesn’t respond, because it’s an argument that they have at least twice weekly, without ever resolving it. Instead, he gets the last word by starting to move the car before Danny’s door is completely closed, prompting yet another round of _Were you dropped on your head as a child? The purpose of the car door is to keep the people inside of it, which, just in case you forget, is you and me, safe while_ you _ram a 3,000 pound machine through the city during rush hour. Starting to move the car before the door is closed defeats the purpose of this basic safety mechanism, and it would be a shame for either of us to be killed pulling out of the parking lot when we’re involved in deadly shoot-outs at least once a week._

They’re just pulling out onto the road when Steve’s phone rings. A quick look at the caller ID reveals that it’s Justin on the line and Steve bites back his reaction because he can’t let it go to voicemail, but he really, _really_ doesn’t want Danny listening in on this conversation. There’s nothing he can do, though, so he answers it. 

“Hi,” Justin says. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Steve winces. Something of his reluctance to answer must have come through the line. 

“I’m running out for coffee,” Steve says. 

“Wish I could join you,” Justin replies. 

Steve is immensely grateful that he can’t, because he wouldn’t be able to satisfactorily explain the guns, the badges or Danny. And like hell would Danny stay in the damn car. 

“Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner tonight.”

Steve hesitates and glances over at Danny. He’s obviously trying to listen to the entire conversation, and there’s a weird look on his face that Steve can’t quite pinpoint, though he’s familiar with pretty much all of Danny’s expressions by now (even if he’s not sure Danny knows he’s that easily read). On the other hand, Steve doesn’t live his life according to how Danny is going to react, so he finally says,

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

They set a time and a place for dinner, and Steve very wisely doesn’t look at Danny when he hangs up the phone. 

“What was that?” Danny asks.

“I’m not allowed to have personal calls during work hours?”

“If that’s what I think it was, Steven, then you’re more crazy than I thought. And let me tell you, I already thought you needed to be locked up.” 

“It’s not what you think.” Even though it probably is exactly what Danny thinks.

“You were making a date. A date with a guy. On a weeknight. You are certifiable. Give me that phone, I’m looking up directions for the nearest psychiatric ward and you are driving there and signing in voluntarily. _What the hell are you thinking_?”

“Suddenly I’m not allowed to have a personal life?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Jackass.” 

“Then what are you saying? Because it sounds to me like you’re telling me I don’t get to have a personal life. Or maybe it’s just during work hours, but I gotta point out that you’ve never kept it off-hours.” 

“Do not put words in my mouth, Steven.” 

“Then tell me what the hell you’re saying.” 

“You just made a date. With a guy.” 

“I hear that’s something that women do occasionally.” 

“You!” Danny’s hands are waving around at light speed, and if Steve wasn’t so used to it by now it would be incredibly distracting. “You are not a woman! Unless you have been brainwashed in the last three days, you should not be referring to yourself as one. Much less making dates with guys that you cannot see past whenever this ends. This is a recipe for disaster with extra pineapple.” 

Steve knows that Danny really is trying to look out for him, in his own twisted, very loud way but he doesn’t _want_ it. Instead of actually saying any of this, he just asks, “Pineapple?”

“Pineapple. The most evil fruit of all time. And Grace is starting to like the vile stuff. Traitor.” 

“She’s got good taste,” Steve says, deadpan, very happy to have steered the conversation away from his upcoming date. And the timing is perfect because they’re now at the coffee shop, and Danny is climbing out of the car as soon as it stops moving. Steve lets himself sit still and breathe for a minute. He texts Kono that he needs her help after work, and to _please not talk about it in front of Danny_ before climbing out of the car himself and following Danny inside. 

Thankfully, Danny drops the subject and just gives Steve and Kono a glare as they leave a few minutes early.

***

Steve is unaccountably nervous as he drives downtown to meet Justin. He’s been on dates before, so technically there should be nothing new here. Well, he’s not sure that his almost-dinners with Catherine would count as dates in anyone else’s book, but there had been instances before Catherine. Not many proper dates since his days at Annapolis, but Steve hasn’t exactly been a monk, especially in the last year or so.

Nevertheless there’s a weird, fluttery pit somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach and he’s not quite sure what to do other than grip the wheel tighter and try not to get himself killed before he gets to the restaurant. Danny would be horrified at how _safely_ he’s driving right now; no running red lights, no stunt turns, just Steve trying to get to the other side in one piece, and without causing destruction behind him. 

At least three times during the drive he asks himself what the _fuck_ he’s doing, going on this date, (Danny’s words from earlier conveniently echoing each time he goes back to the question) but at this point he’s more afraid of what Kono will do if he backs out. She put a considerable amount of work into getting him put together and out the door and she’ll probably be waiting for him when he gets back. 

Because he is going to make it home without killing anyone and _not_ slam into the car in front of him because his mind is wandering and the light turned red, _damnit!_

He’s a few minutes late by the time he gets there. Kono had gotten bolder in her clothing and makeup choices for the evening, and as a result Steve left the house later than he’d wanted to, wearing dark skinny jeans and a shimmery top, some bracelets, a pair of Kono’s sandals that were little more than a sole and a few narrow strings to keep them on his feet, and too much makeup. She’d even threatened to pierce his ears, but Steve drew the line at permanent body modifications. Well, aside from his tattoos, but they had meanings beyond _my life is fucked up, I’m in the wrong body, and I want to look good for a first date that’s never going to be anything more than a few dates._ She hadn’t fought all that hard for them anyway. Though her strategy became clear once she got Steve to sit still for the makeup: what’s a bit of mascara compared to poking holes through his flesh? 

Steve smooths down his shirt unnecessarily and grips the clutch Kono had given him for the evening to store his phone, keys, bank card and some cash. He can’t fit his 5-0 badge in there, but it’s sitting in a pocket in the door of his truck. He feels oddly naked without it on him. It’s become his identity since he came back to the Islands and he’s not sure he knows how to leave it behind, even for a night. 

When Steve finally walks in the door, Justin is standing just inside waiting for him. Steve isn’t sure of the proper greeting, as they barely know each other, but Justin solves that problem by leaning in to give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. Steve smiles at him, even though his stomach is clenched even tighter now, and follows the hostess through the main dining room and out to the patio, where the tables are a bit more spread out, and the air is a lot thinner and less prone to choking him. He takes a deep breath and sits down, only noticing belatedly that Justin is halfway around the table, reaching out to get his chair. 

“Sorry,” Steve winces, feeling as though he’s violated some sort of protocol he wasn’t aware of; he's always been on the other side. But Justin just goes back to his own chair and sits down, smiling at Steve. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And just like that the weird tension is gone. With Justin at an arm’s length, Steve is better equipped to deal with the situation. For most of the conversation, he can just pretend that they’re good friends out to dinner. Except for when Steve attempts to cross his legs under the table and awkwardly bumps Justin’s knees because he’s not used to the motion, or when Justin occasionally reaches out and touches Steve’s hand, even though he’s keeping them pretty close to his edge of the table or when the lighting is just right on Justin’s face and Steve has stop himself from staring before realizing that he’s _allowed_ to look. 

Through all of it, though they keep talking comfortably about any number of topics. Justin tells Steve about his previous posting on an aircraft carrier, (and Steve has to bite back talking about his time in the Navy, because as far as Justin is concerned, Steve’s just in Hawaii visiting family.) 

Steve talks about his imaginary brother, who recently went through a bitter divorce then followed her out to Hawaii so he could visit his daughter more than twice a year. By the time dessert arrives, Steve has apparently waxed on enough about his “niece” that Justin decides she sounds like a good kid, and if she wants a tour of a navy boat, Steve should bring her over sometime soon. Which is where Steve realizes that he may have gotten a bit carried away talking about his fake niece and that if he tries to borrow Gracie for an afternoon to actually follow through with the offer, Danno will kill him. Or insist on coming with, which is probably the worst of the two options, and Steve thinks about excusing himself quickly to the bathroom so that he can bash his head against a wall in relative privacy. 

When he sees the server approaching with their check, Steve has a hot internal debate on whether he should offer to pay for it, because he’s always done it before on first dates, but that was before he switched bodies, and he remembers how much he hated girls who didn’t even try, but that’s his personal preference, and he knows plenty of guys who hate girls who fight for the check, and he’s not sure where Justin falls on the issue, because it’s not really something you can outright ask. He still hasn’t made up his mind by the time she arrives at the table. 

And hands the bill directly to Justin, circumventing the immediate issue. Which of course just leads Steve to question whether he should speak up and offer to at least pay the tip. He starts to reach for the clutch, but Justin grabs his hand, holding it firmly in a grip that is absolutely not making Steve’s heart beat just a little bit faster. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Justin says, and with the indecision gone, Steve relaxes a fraction, but doesn’t pull his hand away. 

Once everything is cleared away, they linger over the last of the bottle of wine until it’s completely gone, and Steve keeps looking at his glass wondering if it would be polite to attempt to get the last few drops from the bottom. If he were at home or out with the team he wouldn’t hesitate, but it’s probably not the best thing to do now. 

Something must have showed on his face, because Justin gets up and starts walking around the table, and this time Steve forces himself to sit still and let Justin pull out his chair, even though he’s itching to just stand up on his own. As they walk out, Justin puts his hand on the small of Steve’s back. Justin’s not pushing him anywhere, not laying claim to him; it’s just a small gesture, one that Steve can easily twist to avoid if he wants, but he likes it, and the contact remains until Steve stops at his car. 

“I have a better idea,” Justin says. 

“Better than what?” he asks. 

“Better than us saying goodnight here in the parking lot.” Justin brings a hand up to rest on Steve’s shoulder, thumb hitting the skin just behind his ear causing Steve to shiver a bit. 

He bites his lip, debating. It would be easy to just say goodnight and go home, but the fact is that he does like Justin. Their conversation has been flowing freely and easily all night, and even though he has to work in the morning, he’s the boss so he can show up as late as he wants anyway. 

Justin continues before Steve actually responds. “I know a beach not far from here, pretty secluded, and it’ll be empty on a Monday night.” 

Steve is pretty sure he knows which beach Justin’s talking about. It’s popular with the local couples, but Justin’s right, Monday isn’t exactly a hot date night, so it’ll probably be empty. 

“Unless you have to get back?” Justin asks. He’s giving Steve an out, which Steve realizes he doesn’t want. 

“No,” he says. “Let’s go. I love the beach.” 

“I thought so,” Justin laughs, and pulls back, letting Steve follow him to his car. 

The drive takes about twenty minutes; Steve knows he can make it in twelve, but he’s not the one driving, and Justin is relatively new to the Island, and makes a few bad turns on the way. He obviously knows where they’re going, but even though Steve knows a better route to avoid traffic, he keeps his mouth closed, remembering that he’s supposedly just visiting and shouldn’t have a local knowledge of the place built partly on childhood memories but mostly on the last year’s worth of driving all over town chasing drug lords and smugglers. He deliberately avoids even thinking about the rest of it because he doesn’t want to ruin the night. 

When they get to beach, there aren’t any other cars in sight, and Steve is glad that Kono didn’t go all out on him and make him wear heels again tonight, because the path down to the sand is narrow and steep in places, and overgrown with large, leafy tropical plants through most of it. When they finally get down by the water Steve’s eyes have adjusted to the low light and he can make out the familiar curves of the beach and see where the water is breaking onto the sand. He drops Justin’s hand, that he’d forgotten he was holding and walks down to the water, sitting down and fiddling with the sandals so he can push his bare toes into it. Justin sits down next to him and doesn’t even complain when the next wave comes up higher than usual and rushes around them, half-soaking them. 

“I’ve always loved the beach,” Steve says, stopping just short of adding a tell-tale _here_ to the end of it. 

“I grew up in Chicago,” Justin says. “The beach up there is fine, but it’s not the ocean.”

Steve just nods, and lets Justin take his hand again. He remembers a trip they took from Annapolis to Lake Ontario one weekend when he was still in school. He remembers the long stretch of beach that was similar on the surface, but lacking the fresh, salty ocean air. Even Annapolis, which was right on the bay lacked the same freshness as the beaches here at home, and Steve could never satisfactorily explain it to anyone, though he suspected that one of his roommates from California understood more than the rest.

Justin lets go of Steve’s hand and pulls his shirt over his head. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. 

“Going swimming,” Justin says, standing up and walking up the beach so he can deposit his clothes in a safe spot. Steve follows suit, mostly because he can never resist a swim. 

By the time Steve gets up to where Justin is on the beach, Justin has shed all of his clothing, leaving them in a heap at his feet. Steve catches a glimpse of his naked form and looks away quickly. Before Steve can analyze that particular reaction, aside from the fact that it’s an issue he’s never had before tonight, Justin is running back to the water calling out “Last one in!” and literally throwing his body at the waves. 

Steve drops his pants and shirt and struggles with the bra a bit, cursing the damn thing before flinging it aside and running for the water. As soon as it’s deep enough for him to swim comfortably he dives under and takes a few strokes out to where it’s just too deep to stand comfortably, and treads water easily, turning back towards the beach where Justin is still standing in waist deep water. 

“You were saying?” Steve calls, and moves further out as Justin dives in to chase him. 

The feeling of the water pouring over every inch of his body is nothing short of sublime; it’s a feeling that Steve has never gotten used to, not since the first time he snuck out with his high school friends for a beach party. He hopes he never does. 

He’s lost in thought enough that Justin is able to swim up behind him, grab him by the shoulders and push him under briefly. Steve comes up spluttering and kicks out hard, following after Justin to get revenge, mentally thanking himself for keeping up his swimming in the last week. When he gets there he wraps his legs around Justin from the back and rolls backwards hard, dunking him and then using the leverage to spring away again, swimming fast, but not fast enough to actually get away. He doesn’t really want to. 

The next time Justin grabs him, it’s not to inflict the next move in their game. Instead he wraps his arms around Steve’s stomach and pulls him in close, just holding him there and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve doesn’t fight it, just lets himself float, with Justin holding him and treading water to keep their heads above the waves. Steve can feel the heat pouring off Justin’s body, and the sharp contrast to the cool of the water around them, and it’s slowly driving him mad, so he gently breaks Justin’s hold on his waist and lets his legs drift up until he’s floating on his back, still mostly submerged. He’s using Justin’s upper body as a lounge chair, his arms on top of Justin’s, his head pillowed on Justin’s shoulder, looking up at the mostly dark sky. Even out here they can’t escape the noise pollution of the city completely. 

They stay like that for a long time, drifting a bit with the waves, Justin’s thumbs tracing nonsense patterns over Steve’s hand. 

Without thinking about it, Steve turns his head and kisses Justin gently on the lips. 

The angle’s awkward, and it leaves him kicking a bit to maintain his position in the water, but he doesn’t move. Instead, Justin adjusts around him and kisses back, harder, opening up and letting Steve fall into him. He tastes like the ocean, salty, and it’s overloading all of Steve’s senses to be this surrounded by it, as if he’s about to lose himself and melt into the water. 

He wants more, so he breaks the position and flips around, gripping at Justin’s shoulders now, feeling Justin’s hands go to his waist, thumbs still moving in small circles on whichever piece of Steve’s skin he’s managed to find. 

Steve can no longer feel the up and down motion of the waves as much, but the surface of the water is dancing around his neck, sometimes higher, sometimes lower, adding to the sensory overload and he groans, moving his body closer to Justin’s and tangling their legs together as they both tread water gently to keep their heads above the surface. Steve hasn’t lost his mind completely and he’s pretty sure he doesn't want to drown tonight. Well, at least not physically.

One of Justin’s hands starts moving, from Steve’s waist to his hip to the small of his back, up his spine, back down. Steve loses track of exactly where Justin’s hands are, except that they’re warm, and they’re leaving trails of heat on his skin, causing him to breathe faster into Justin’s mouth, and tighten his grip on Justin’s shoulders for leverage. The water rushes in to cool down and fill all the places Justin’s hands leave behind. It’s perfect out here, weightless in the water; the only things Steve can hear over the rush of blood through his veins is Justin’s breathing and the ebb and flow of the ocean. 

Justin’s hand moves up Steve’s side, fingers trailing over his ribcage and thumb grazing the underside of his breast, circling up until it brushes across Steve’s nipple, causing a jolt of electricity to race down his spine. 

He pushes back, away, breathing hard and he strikes out for the shore, not looking back for Justin’s reaction. All he knows is that he needs to get out of the water and get back to his own home, back to more familiar surroundings. Steve swims as long as he can effectively stroke before standing up and sprinting up the beach, not bothering to stop and shake off more water than the can during his short run. He’s mastered the art of dressing quickly, and by the time Justin reaches him he’s fully dressed except for the damned bra, which he’s folded in on itself as small as he can make it and is clenching it in one fist. 

Justin looks puzzled as Steve manages to politely ask to be driven back to his car and dresses quickly while Steve wrestles the straps of the sandals back into place with shaky fingers. The silence and stillness of the beach is spoiled by tension as the climb back up the path to Justin’s car, and they don’t speak on the way back into town. Steve crosses his arms over his chest and shrinks back into the passenger seat and tries not to study Justin’s profile to look for his reaction. 

When they get back to the restaurant parking lot Steve fumbles open the door before Justin can throw the car into park and scrabbles for Kono’s clutch where he left it in the door. He manages to blurt out a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before shutting Justin’s door. 

He fumbles his keys and _goddamnit_ , Justin is so perfectly polite that of course he’d wait until Steve proves that his car will start and will get him home, and so it feels like forever until he feels the engine turn over and roar to life. He throws the car into reverse and drives off quickly without bothering to buckle his seatbelt.

The routine of driving is familiar enough that concentrating on it allows Steve to start to breathe evenly again, concentrating on taking the correct turns that will eventually lead him back to his house. By the time he pulls into his driveway he’s calm enough to notice that Kono did really go home, or at least elsewhere because her car isn’t in the driveway, and that he’s not actually going to have a panic attack, even if he’s not quite ready to sort through whatever just happened. 

He need either lots of alcohol or Kono’s help to get through that one, and probably both, if the past week’s been any indication. 

Instead, he sheds his clothing between his bedroom door and the shower, turning it on and jumping in before it reaches optimal temperatures because it’s not the heat he’s after; it’s the pounding of the needles of water to erase the memories of the ocean and Justin’s hands from his skin. When he’s done he towels off quickly, digs through is medicine cabinet for a sleeping pill, takes two and falls into bed, forcing his mind into nothingness so he can get some sleep.

***

Steve’s alarm goes off at the usual time Tuesday morning, but he wakes up just enough to hit the button, text Danny that he’s coming in late, and go back to sleep. Getting up means he has to deal with what happened last night because he knows that he won’t be as effective at work until he sorts through whatever the hell it is and settles his brain back onto more important things.

It’s full-on daylight when he finally wakes up for keeps, but he doesn’t look at the clock because it’ll just add to the guilt complex he has over sleeping past sunrise in the first place. He throws on some clothes, picks up the discarded pieces he’d left on the floor last night and tosses them in the laundry basket before finally going downstairs to make some coffee. 

When he sees that there’s someone sitting at his dining room table, he reaches for his gun, only to realize that he left it upstairs, that the plant on the table at the bottom of the stairs is a poor weapon, and that it’s Kono at the table so why is he trying to kill her? 

Kono doesn’t move when she sees him, just says, “I made coffee,” and continues drinking her own cup. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, moving towards the coffee maker. It smells heavenly, and he takes a deep breath as he pours his first cup of the day. He has a feeling there will be many more. 

“I dropped by to get my shoes,” she says, nonchalantly. As if getting her shoes was actually a big deal, as if she doesn’t have the ability to bug him non-stop at work about it anyway. 

“They’re upstairs,” Steve says. “let me go get them.” 

“Not a chance,” Kono says. “Sit down, drink your coffee, and tell me what happened last night.” 

“It was --” Steve trails off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. Because it had been really, _really_ good right up until it went really, really _bad_. 

“Start from the beginning.” 

“We don’t have time for this,” Steve says. “We need to get to work. You know, that place where we catch bad guys, where I’m the boss and I can fire you arbitrarily?” 

“Yes, you are the boss, which means that occasionally you can show up late. I already told Chin I was going to swing by before work, and I can just as easily call him back and say that you’re going to be late, too.” 

Steve remembers texting Danny before sunrise and looks away, sheepishly. 

“OK, so that’s taken care of,” Kono says, “since you obviously already got a message out to Danny. No more excuses. Spill.” 

Steve wonders when she learned to read him that well, and whether it was before or after last Sunday. The former is a scary thought, so instead he starts talking, because he knows that she’ll keep him here until he does. And even if he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, it’s nice to be able to share with someone. 

His coffee is cold and Kono’s coffee is gone by the time he finishes. 

“I’m starting to see why Danny keeps mentioning how willing he is to find you professional help. I think he’s done half the research already.” 

“Can we _not_ bring him into it?” Steve says, putting his elbows on the table and cradling his face in his hands. 

“Let me get this straight,” Kono says, “You went out with Justin, had a fantastic time, went skinny dipping in the ocean, made out with him then had a panic attack because he touched you while you were making out while skinny dipping in the ocean.” 

When Steve looks up she’s giving him a _face_. “Will you stop it with the face?”

“And now you sound like --” she cuts herself off, even though Steve knows full well what she’s about to say. 

“-- he who must not be named,” she finishes. 

Steve just glares. 

_”Anyway_ , you need to call him.” 

“Who?” Steve asks, and Kono just gives him another look. “Right. Justin. I doubt he wants to see me again.” 

“This can go two ways, Steve. Either you call him right now, and apologize, or you don’t. If you do, he’ll most likely agree to meet you for at _least_ coffee. Otherwise, you’ll still be freaking out over this in ten years. And, I’ll tell Danny.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“No, I wouldn’t. But you probably will, eventually.” She sounds like she’s not just talking about it slipping out during an argument, and again Steve wonders when she got so good at reading his subconscious, because he’s barely thought about anything beyond how much he actually _likes_ arguing with Danny. So he takes the easy way out, fishes in his pocket for his phone and dials Justin’s number. 

The conversation is short; Steve keeps it that way by design, given that Kono is openly watching him and obviously taking careful note of everything he’s saying. By the end he’s gotten Justin to agree to another date Wednesday night. Only then does Kono actually cooperate when he repeats that they need to go to work. 

When they get to the office, Danny gives Steve a look that he can’t identify, then goes back into his office to work. Steve has no idea what it means, and isn’t sure he wants to ask, so he gets Chin to catch him up quickly and retreats to his office as well. 

Without Kono over his shoulder, Steve is starting to regret making the second date. He had wanted it to go well, but he should have stopped before going out to the beach. Spending time with someone and allowing yourself to find them attractive is different from actually doing anything, or so Steve tries to tell himself. But the excuse feels thin and brittle and he knows he’s trying to justify something, but he still feels like he needs to. After all, _he_ was the one who kissed Justin first, and that wasn't a move he ever expected to make. 

It was freeing, yes, but given his circumstances it just set off a whole other chain of issues, because now he’s not sure what to do about the whole situation. He likes Justin, but Justin’s been out with a person who doesn’t really exist, and who – hopefully – eventually will just be an amusing story in Steve’s history. And it’s not fair to either of them, because it had been so nice, but what the hell else is there to do except enjoy the ride on the way down and hope that it doesn’t go on for too long and that neither of them end up breaking anything. 

Well, if Steve breaks anything it will be Danny inflicting the injury, and speak of the devil because there he is standing in Steve’s door. 

“What?” he asks. 

“I expected more spring in your step this morning,” Danny says. “Don’t think I can’t still recognize your ‘I just got laid’ face. But you just look like ten kinds of hell.” He sounds genuinely concerned, which is not at all what Steve was expecting from him. 

“Thanks for that,” Steve says. Danny’s trying to rebuild some bridge that Steve didn’t know had collapsed, and he’d appreciate the effort more if he knew what it was really about.

There’s an awkward pause, and Steve watches as Danny settles in to a slouch against the door frame, evidently seeing this being a long conversation. 

“So, how was it?” Danny finally asks. “I can guess based on the 5:00am text and those bags under your eyes that something happened. And knowing you, it was probably you lobbing a grenade into whatever restaurant and scaring off the tourists and the few locals who aren’t used to you yet. Just tell me you didn’t take a gun on a date.”

Steve ignores the jab about his various weapons, and instead blurts out, “He thinks I’m a tourist.” 

Danny doesn’t speak right away, and Steve wants to avoid more awkward pauses to keep himself from saying things before he totally thinks it through, so he starts again. “It was --” 

“You are not allowed to speak until I decide if telling him that you’re a tourist, a _tourist_ , just one more in those mobs of people that you can’t stand, is either too stupid to think about or a stroke of genius.” 

“Danno --” 

“Did I or did I not give you permission to speak yet?” 

Steve feels the need to say something, but Danny is standing there in the door giving Steve a very speculative look, and blocking the way out, so that Steve can’t take the other easy avenue to end the conversation. 

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?” Danny finally asks. “Are you going to see him again?”

Which Steve is thankfully spared from answering by Kono walking up behind Danny and slapping him upside the head. 

“What was that for?” Danny asks. “Civilized people do not go around slapping their partners.” 

“Steve’s your partner,” Kono says, “and he didn’t slap you. I did.” 

“Savage.” Danny rubs the back of his head and smooths his hair again. Whatever tension was between them is gone. Steve turns back to the file he was reading and Danny gives him one last look before turning away to go talk to Chin. Once Danny is gone Steve lets out a shaky breath, feeling like he’s just walked through an explosion without really knowing _why_. 

When he gets home he goes for a longer run than normal to make up for skipping his morning routine. By the time he gets back to his house, he’s exceedingly glad that neither Kono nor Danny are at his house, and that he can have one night to himself. 

Once he’s cooked and eaten dinner and washed the dishes he goes out to the garage to work on his father’s car, deliberately leaving his phone in the house. If there’s a true emergency, Danny will come and get him, and after what happened last night and their brief conversation this morning Steve highly doubts that Justin will call. They’ve made plans for tomorrow night anyway. 

After the weekend (and Steve is including Monday night in the broad term) he really needs a night off where he doesn’t have to deal with the dissonance between who he _is_ and who the world sees these days. 

Then there’s Danny, and Steve doesn’t know what to even think about that situation now, because Danny should have been giving him shit this morning about being out late and sleeping past dawn for the first time in seven years, maybe eight, and _welcome to normal life_. He’d tried, but something was off about it, and while things had eventually gone back to almost-normal at the office, the key word there was _almost_ , and it’s driving Steve insane trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

Maybe there’s something more going on with Rachel and Gracie and Steve had just been too wrapped up in his own shit this last week to notice it. There had been an early end to Danny’s weekend with Gracie, which has never been a good sign. He knew things had been in a bit of a holding pattern since Rachel had had the baby, but maybe something had happened in the last two weeks. 

Of course, Danny has never been shy in his venting about Rachel, but it could be something worse than the usual custody disputes. And now Steve wants to go shoot something because there is definitely something wrong in Danno’s life and he missed it because his own is so fucked right now. What the hell is he doing dating Justin when Danny could lose Grace? 

That thought is enough to bring him up short, wondering what the hell would happen to Danno without his daughter, then stopping that train wreck before it starts, even theoretically. Instead, he goes inside and sends Danny a quick _everything OK over there?_ text before he can stop to think about it. 

He can’t go back to calmly working on the Marquis after that epiphany. Instead, Steve grabs two beers and goes out to the lanai, downing one quickly while he tries to relax and figure out what to do. Danny hasn’t texted him back yet, and maybe the beer is going to his head faster than normal because Steve is considering calling just in case things _are not_ OK with Danny and Grace. 

But he doesn’t, and instead settles into his chair for the evening, this time making sure he has the phone in his hand. With nothing to do but sit there and force himself not to call Danny he fiddles with his phone, taking random pictures of the light bouncing off the ocean and deleting them right away. He answers another email from Catherine, telling her that he misses her, and can’t wait for her to be in port again because it’s been far too long since they’ve seen each other. 

Beer number two is long gone and Steve is nearly through beer number three when there’s a flash of headlights in the driveway followed closely by the sound of a door slamming shut. 

“Out here!” Steve calls, after waiting enough time so that whoever it is, ( _Danny_ ) is probably inside the house and can hear him. 

“What is wrong with you?” Danny demands. Steve can’t see him yet, but he’s happy that Danny decided to come over. “Did no one in your life teach you manners? You _cannot_ send a text like that out of the blue.” 

“You’re overreacting,” Steve says, finishing off his beer. 

“I am not overreacting. If anything I am not reacting enough, because who _does_ this? Who sends cryptic messages like that?”

“You could have called,” Steve points out. “You didn’t have to come over here.”

“And leave you alone when you seem to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown? I had to come over here to be sure you weren’t going to blow up the house.” 

“You were acting weird all day,” Steve says with a shrug.

“I’ve been acting weird. _I’ve_ been acting weird. Me. I get that you’re having some sort of crisis here, but even in context, I’m _not_ the one acting weird. You, my friend, are losing it.”

“Just because I go on one date --” 

“It’s not the date. It’s _really_ not the date.” Danny pauses for half a second. “OK, so it’s partly the date, but it’s mostly the fact that you have not blown anything up all week. You have shot at nothing but a paper target, you have nearly flattened a guy for hitting on you, and then you are going on _dates_ with men you’ve barely spoken to.” 

“Date. Singular.”

“Not the point, Steven.” Danny stops moving, stops talking. He’s deflated some, shoulders hunched a bit forward. 

“I just wanted to make sure everything was OK,” Steve says. 

“You are going to stop drinking,” Danny says, snatching the bottle out of Steve’s hand. “you are going to drink a glass of water, and you are going to go sleep. In the morning you will wake up at a god-awful hour of the morning and go swimming or running or sit on your living room floor and do situps or pushups or whatever else you feel the need to do to get your adrenaline rush while normal people are still in bed. I can only _hope_ that whatever fit of crazy has taken you over tonight will be gone by the time you get to work tomorrow morning. On time, and with a box of malasadas because you _owe me_.” 

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just stares up at Danny until Danny takes the initiative, by downing what little is left of Steve's beer and taking Steve’s arm, heaving him out of the chair. 

“This is so much easier now,” he remarks, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist and propelling him towards the stairs. When they get close Danny unhooks his arm and shoves at Steve’s back. “I think you know the way to your own bedroom.”

Steve stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns back to look at Danny. The ghost of the touch is still lingering, both from where his arm rested for some amount of time that wasn’t nearly long enough and then the clear outline of Danny’s fingers as they’d shoved him away. He meets Danny’s eyes for a second and just _knows_ what happened today. What’s been happening for the last week, and maybe longer, maybe since they went hiking and Danny pulled him back up the cliff or maybe since that first beer on the beach. It’s big, and it’s threatening to swallow him and so he looks away, down at his feet, which don’t _look like his_ but give him something else to focus on so that he can keep breathing normally. 

“Thanks, Danno,” he says, fleeing upstairs before Danny can reply. 

He listens for the sounds of the car starting and Danny driving away before he changes for bed. He fills the glass on the bathroom sink with water and downs it, drinking steadily while he tries to clear his head so that he’ll be able to sleep without the aid of medications. He most definitely does not need the extra layer of complications in his life, and so he does his best to forget what just happened. Instead, he focuses on his date with Justin tomorrow. They planned to meet up at a local beach bar that Justin says was recommended to him. Low key, no club scene. Steve’s been there before, and he hopes that it’ll be comfortable enough for him not to have a repeat performance. 

This thing with Justin is a good distraction, he muses, just on the edge of sleep. But he refuses  
to answer the lingering question of _from what?_

***

Steve doesn’t really get a chance to think about it because they get a drug smuggling case mid-morning, and spend the rest of the day furiously compiling information and tracking down more leads until Chin suggests going out for dinner and coming back in an hour with fresh eyes and Steve realizes that he’s about to be late for coffee with Justin.

“I have other plans,” Steve says. “But go ahead. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Chin looks a him quizzically, Kono gives him a smile and a quick thumbs up, and Danny is pointedly still staring at the monitors. Steve decides that he needs to get out now before he changes his mind. He makes it out the door, but only barely, and what the fuck, when did coffee become such a big deal?

He’s not even all the way to the car when he gets a text from Kono. _Want me to come with you?_

Steve’s first instinct is to say no, he can handle one coffee date, but then he thinks that it might be good to have reinforcements. But this really is just coffee and he’s already got a ready made excuse to leave early, and so he texts back a quick _No._

By the time he gets there he’s nearly 10 minutes late, which he hates, but couldn’t be helped because he’d had to cross town in rush hour traffic, and even with his driving he couldn’t make it. He just hopes that Justin hasn’t stood him up because he hadn’t called or sent a text.

He walks inside to see a decent sized line at the counter, but he avoids getting in it right away, scanning the room instead. He notices the locations of all the fire exits, figures out the weak points if someone were to walk through the front door with a gun (other than himself, and _shit_ , he really should have left those in the car), and then spots Justin reading a newspaper on one of the low couches in the corner. There’s space next to him on the couch, but there’s also an empty chair across the table, which Steve takes.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming,” Justin says.

“I got held up in traffic,” Steve says. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Let me get you a drink,” Justin offers.

“Triple non-fat latte,” Steve recites, automatically, pulling out his wallet to give Justin some cash.

Justin waves him off. “That’s a lot of caffeine for dinner time.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Steve says without thinking. “Something came up at -- “ he catches himself just in time. “ --home. I can’t stay long, but I wanted to see you.”

Justin smiles at that, and gets up to get in line for the coffee. Steve settles back in the chair and waits. He pulls out his phone and fiddles with it while waiting. He makes his move in his scrabble marathon with Chin, (he’s one letter short of _firearm_ , but settles for _armor_ instead,) checks his email to see if there’s been anything new in the last twenty minutes (nope, nothing, they must still be having dinner,) and pulls up his latest text-war with Danny and contemplates throwing something at him out of the blue. He’s contemplating a picture of the emergency exit sign (he expects that Danny would text back asking what local business he blew up _this_ time) when Justin comes back and hands Steve his coffee.

“So,” Steve says. He knows he needs to start this conversation, but he’s never had to do this before, so he has no idea how. “I’m sorry. About the other night.” He looks down at his cup and takes a gulp. It burns his throat going down, but he does his best to keep a straight face and not let on.

“I don’t want to push you,” Justin says. “Are you OK now?”

He sounds genuinely concerned, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. He’d expected more questions, something to give him an opportunity to explain just why this can’t work, except that Justin is more concerned for Steve’s well being than angry about the sudden end to what they were doing.

“I -- yeah,” Steve gets out. He is, really, but he can’t really say more than that without getting into an even more uncomfortable conversation, and one that will probably make Justin leave and block his number.

“I know you’re busy tonight, but how about dinner tomorrow?”

Again, Steve’s not sure of what he wants to say, so he bites his lip and tries to come up with something, _anything_.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s fine.” He sounds hurt, and that’s the last thing Steve wants.

“It’s not that,” he says quickly. “It’s that I promised my friend that I’d see her before I left, and tomorrow night is her first free night in a while.” Steve hopes that Kono will play along with this part, because the only thing he can think to get out of this is, “If you don’t mind tagging along with us for a few drinks, you’re welcome to join.”

This time it’s Justin who hesitates, and Steve can see that it’s not what he was hoping for, but he replies quickly. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

“I’ll call you with the details,” Steve says, standing. “I have to get back.”

Justin stands, too, waiting, and now Steve really doesn’t know what to do. A handshake feels too formal, but a kiss or a hug would be weird, and besides, there’s a table in the way. Of course, Justin fixes that by coming around, and placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Steve momentarily flashes back to Monday night, when Justin’s hands were all over him, without the protective layer of fabric on his shirt. A few days out, he can remember more than just the panic that followed, and he suppresses a shiver.

Acting on impulse, Steve leans in and kisses Justin on the cheek before breaking away with a quick, “I’ll call you in the morning.”

He calls Kono on the way back to HQ. “I hope you’re not busy tomorrow night,” he starts, and explains the situation to her. Even over the phone he can tell that she’s disappointed in him.

“You get one night to use me as a shield. Three hours, tops, before I invent an excuse and leave.”

“Kono,” Steve says, starting to protest.

“Not a chance, brah. I am happy to provide moral support from behind the scenes, but that’s it. You’ve got to do this on your own.”

Steve knows she’s right, so he changes the subject and they talk for the last few minutes until he pulls into the parking lot. “I just pulled up. Can we not talk about this in front of --”

“Danny, yeah, I know.” She hangs up without saying another word, and Steve is too annoyed to think about why he doesn’t want Danny to know that he’s seeing Justin again tomorrow night. Besides, they have work to do.

It takes seven hours of all of them working straight through to hit the next dead end. They’ve been talking at each other all night, compiling information and they have a stack of new profiles to look into now, but that’s it.

“I’m calling it,” Chin says. “We should go home. We’ll have fresh eyes after a few hours of sleep.”

This is the part of the work that Steve hates, putting it down when they’re getting somewhere. Or were, earlier.

“Agreed. You too, super SEAL,” Danny says. Steve wants to protest, because he’s not tired, they’re not really at a dead end (or rather, they won’t be anymore if he keeps going,) and besides, there’s a perfectly comfortable couch here. Well, mostly comfortable. Good enough for a few hours, anyway.

It’s Kono who tosses him his keys and gently shoves him out the door while Danny locks it behind them.

“I will check the security footage in the morning,” Danny says. “Don’t think I won’t.” He’s using his Father-Knows-Best tone, and Steve can’t argue with that one, so he goes.

There’s hardly anyone on the road at this hour, and Steve’s makes it home pretty fast. He stops in the kitchen for a glass of water, then heads straight to bed. He’s still too keyed up to sleep, but maybe he can calm down enough to sleep if he stays still for long enough and keeps his eyes closed. Which is what he does, right after setting the alarm for his normal time, even though he’s planning on skipping his morning swim to go straight back to the office.

***

At noon on Thursday Steve goes back out to the firing range, with Kono this time, and they spend their lunch hour punching holes in paper targets and making bets on who can make the best patterns. Steve gives up when Kono presents a near-perfect Plumeria blossom carved in the target’s chest. It pales in comparison to his slightly lopsided star.

They stop to pick up lunch on the way back, greasy pulled pork sandwiches that Steve shouldn’t like as much as he does, and they eat in the car on the way back through town. Kono is in the middle of a huge bite when Steve finally asks what he’s been needing to ask all day.

“Can I borrow some clothes for tonight?”

“You gonna let me put makeup on you again?” Kono asks once she swallows her mouthful of sandwich.

Steve wants to fight her on it, just to have a fight, but decides that he’s got better ways to get into that one. “If that’s what it takes.”

“We’ll head back to my place after work,” She says. “You need to call Justin and tell him where we’re going. And I’m driving.” Kono suggests one of her favorite places, and Steve makes the call, putting the phone on speaker while he finishes his sandwich.

The conversation is awkward and uncomfortable, made even more so by the fact that Kono refuses to speak, even when he looks at her and mouths “help?” They eventually settle for one of the bars over by the base that Justin is familiar with, and make plans to meet at 8:00, which will give Kono plenty of time to fix Steve before they go out. Well, she can at least fix the way he looks.

Kono is grinning like she’s been handed the keys to -- well, something, at any rate. Something good, and Steve wishes he could back away slowly, except that they’re still in the car and oh yeah, _he_ roped _her_ into going out with him tonight.

 _This can’t end well,_ he thinks. But then again, maybe it will end slightly better than the last date he went on.

Kono insists that they leave work at 5:00 on the dot, and doesn’t give Steve any room to protest as she’s literally pushing him out the door and into her car. As they’re driving she’s sizing him up.

“I have a skirt I think you’d look great in,” Kono says.

“I’m not wearing a skirt.”

Kono changes the topic, but now that they’ve done this a few times, Steve recognizes the tactic. “No skirts, no dresses,” he says. “But I’m willing to go as far as leggings again.”

“And makeup.”

“No heels.”

“Deal.”

They shake on it.

When they get to Kono’s apartment, she goes straight for her wardrobe and Steve goes straight for a beer.

She doesn’t even try to keep him from drinking before they go out. “You’re replacing every drop,” she says. “With something of equal or greater value.”

“And if I don’t?” Steve asks, even though he’d already been planning to do it, and then some, because he’d be lost without her right now.

“You know that new shop over by the Coral Prince house that’s selling custom boards?”

“Yeah, I hear they’re -- Oh.” Steve makes a mental note to replace the contents of the entire fridge, pantry and liquor cabinet, because as nice as a custom board is, they’re _expensive_ and going grocery shopping is clearly the easier end of the deal.

Kono comes out of her bedroom carrying five shirts and a few pairs of pants. “Here,” she says, shoving them into his chest. “Go try these on.”

Somewhere in the middle of getting ready it he asks, “Is this why it always takes girls so long to get ready?”

Kono hits him in the shoulder, hard. Then runs back to the bedroom to grab another shirt that she thinks Steve will look good in.

“Fill me in on the way there,” she says, once they're both dressed and ready. “What is your name, why are you in Hawaii, since you’re obviously visiting, and what have you been doing the last week?”

Steve fills her in, telling her about visiting his “brother,” and even though he doesn’t give any of the details about said brother, she gives him a sideways look that says she definitely knows what’s going on, but she doesn’t say anything. Steve doesn’t know what questions to ask to get at the information he wants from her, so he stays silent, even though he has a sinking feeling that it’s going to come back to haunt him. 

Kono parks the car, and suddenly Steve is incredibly uncomfortable. This is a prime military hangout, and Steve’s here to meet a guy. A military guy. Same as him. And everyone is going to see.

Except... well, except that no one will care because A, it’s unlikely that any of the guys here will know him because he hasn’t been stationed anywhere near Hawaii for a long time, and B, there’s the whole bodyswap thing to consider. He’s _not_ Lt. Commander Steve McGarrett tonight. He’s Jaime, and he’s here to meet the guy he’s been dating.

Kono knocks on the window, startling Steve out of his internal panic, and he gets out of the car. Because Kono insisted on leaving her house on time, they’re actually there before Justin, and so they order drinks and find a table to wait.

They’re not there for very long when Steve spots Justin and stands up greet him as he walks over to the table. He claps Justin on the back and sits back down, neatly avoiding any more intimate contact without being rude. Justin sits down in the chair next to Steve, leaving Kono on her own on the other side of the table.

“Justin, this is Kono. Kono, this is Justin.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Justin says. He sounds sincere, for all that he didn’t seem too receptive to having a third person tag along.

“You too. Jaime’s told me so much about you,” she says, and Steve cringes at the wicked gleam in her eyes.

“How do you two know each other?” Justin asks.

It’s a perfectly reasonable question, and Justin is being polite in asking it, but now Steve finds out why he was right to dread Kono’s involvement in the story he’s cooked up for himself.

“I work with his brother,” she says. “We’re part of the Five-0 task force.”

Steve wants to kick her for that, under the table, but that really wouldn’t accomplish anything other than opening the door for her to retaliate at a later date. And he’s seen the revenge stunts she constantly pulls on Chin, so instead he opts to keep his feet to himself and just go with it.

Justin’s apparently heard of the Five-0, and he and Kono strike up a conversation that Steve desperately wants to take part in, not least because Kono is insulting him to his face and he can’t do anything about it. He zones out a bit and starts plotting his own revenge. He can get Danny to help him, probably. Except that Danny probably agrees with what Kono’s saying about his driving and his penchant for explosions. Chin, maybe, though he probably has more sense than to get between Kono and her pranks. 

By now, Kono’s moved on to telling Jaime about the shark cage, which Steve desperately wants to point out that she _wasn’t there for_. Instead, he interrupts with, “You know, I get enough about the crazy boss from my brother.”

“But there are so many stories!” Kono protests.

Luckily, Justin takes his side, and moves on to telling a story about his first tour out on a ship. It makes Steve ache to jump in with his own stories of the same thing, but again he can’t, so he sits back and orders another drink and just listens.

Time passes pretty quickly, and before Steve realizes that it’s that late Kono is standing and excusing herself, saying that she’s got to get home and get some sleep or her boss will have her head.

 _You have no idea,_ Steve thinks, He will figure out how to get her back for this. Eventually. Once he moves from his spot at Justin’s side, which is very comfortable at the moment.

“You can find your own way home, Jaime?” she asks, very insincerely. Steve knows that she’s not actually offering a ride back.

He looks over at Justin, not needing to actually ask the question, because Justin’s already answering it for him.

“Yeah,” Justin says. “Thanks for coming out, Kono. It was nice to meet you. I hope I’ll see you around.”

Kono nods, and turns to head out, leaving Steve and Justin on their own.

“Want to get out of here?” Justin asks.

Steve nods, grateful because suddenly there are too many people and the music’s too loud and he can’t breathe. Justin signals for someone to come and close out the tab, and within a few minutes they’re escaping outside. They’re too far from the beach to walk down to the water, but Justin leads Steve back to his car.

“I can take you home now,” he says quietly. “Or ---” The question is open for Steve to fill in with whatever he wants, and the only thing he knows is that he doesn’t want this night to be over quite yet.

“The beach,” Steve says. “Let’s go back.”

Justin purses his lips, and Steve’s not sure what Justin’s reaction is, and Steve starts to panic that he’s said the wrong thing, and that maybe he should just ask Justin to take him home.

“Are you sure?” Justin asks.

Steve takes a minute to consider the question instead of just automatically answering _yes_ and paving over his own emotions later. Surprisingly, he finds that yeah, he is OK, and he wants to go back there, even though it ended so badly last time. “Yes,” he finally says, and climbs into the car, letting Justin close the door and walk around to the driver’s side.

Steve doesn’t say much during the drive, but as soon as they clear the city he rolls down the window and lets the cool air wash over him. While he’s watching the land roll by outside the car, he feels Justin reach over and take one of Steve’s hands in his, fingers gently twining with Steve’s own, asking without saying anything. Steve’s the one who closes his fingers on Justin’s, saying _yes_ to that much without having to say a word. Justin strokes his thumb over Steve’s every so often, and keeps their hands together until they get all the way out to the beach and have to break apart to get out of the car. Steve misses the contact when it’s gone, so he hurries out and meets Justin at the back of the car, where he’s fumbling in the trunk, and eventually pulls out a blanket.

“I see you came prepared,” Steve teases, taking Justin’s hand again.

Justin laughs, and it’s a nice sound. “I was a boy scout.”

Steve bites back the automatic _me too_ , and settles for tucking his shoulder into Justin’s side as the walk. It takes longer than it should to get down to the beach, but Steve is perfectly fine with this from where he’s tucked under Justin’s arm. They stumble quite a bit in the dark and Steve ends of on his ass more than once, but where he’d normally be annoyed by his own clumsiness he just takes Justin’s hand and levers himself back up until they eventually make it all the way down the dunes.

The tide is in, and Steve lets Justin move away long enough set up the blanket just above the line of wet sand so that they won’t end up soaked. While Justin fusses with the blanket, Steve kicks off his shoes and walks down to the water, getting his feet wet. He stands there and lets three or four waves wash over his feet before turning back to where Justin is sitting on the blanket and clearly laughing at him.

“I had to,” Steve says by way of an explanation for his actions, even though he’s well aware that it doesn’t explain anything at all. It would be impossible for him to explain just how connected he is to this beach and this ocean, even though he’s been around the world by sea. It seems that Justin’s accepted that Steve is just quirky, and he pats the blanket next to him in a universal _come sit down_ gesture, which Steve accepts, crossing his ankles and looping his arms around his knees. Justin scoots a bit closer and puts his arm back around Steve’s shoulders.

It’s a clear night, and the water is reflecting what little moonlight there is, the light spread out in a long, line, broken in places by the movement of the swells as they come towards shore and break. Unlike the other night, though, Steve feels no impulse to go swimming, for all that he needed to feel the water on his skin. Tonight, the smell of the saltwater and the breeze from the ocean is enough. They talk while they’re sitting there, but parts of their conversation are few and far between as they mostly just enjoy the silence while Steve feels comfortable in his skin again.

Even so, his heart is pounding when he finally turns his head and kisses Justin lightly on the lips. He lingers there for a moment before pulling back and resuming the position he’d been in before while he waits for his pulse to return to normal again. Except that it doesn’t; it’s still racing pleasantly, spreading warmth from his stomach out to his fingertips, pooling in his shoulders, just under Justin’s arm, and especially on the back of his neck where there’s no protective layer of clothing between them. And so he kisses Justin again, putting slightly more pressure behind his lips, and he feels Justin respond in kind. Justin is very clearly letting him take the lead, and he’s thankful for that. Right now, this feels good, and he’s in no hurry to change that. Justin’s lips are warm and soft under his own, and the gentle scrape of Justin’s stubble on his cheeks adds to the tingling that is spreading through him.

Leaning closer in is both inevitable and incredibly difficult, given the way they’re sitting. Steve attempts to untangle his legs, but his limbs don’t quite feel like his own right now and he makes a hash of it, falling onto his back and dragging Justin down with him, and they break apart. Steve can’t help laughing at himself, and Justin does too. It gives Steve a chance to settle more comfortably into the sand and catch his breath, which is refusing to be caught, no matter how many tricks he uses.

At the edges of his vision Steve can see the tops of the trees moving, and he closes his eyes against it, preferring to feel everything tonight instead of seeing it. Eventually, when his heart rate is back somewhere in the resting range (only barely, even though he’s lying perfectly still) he rolls over to his side and hooks a leg over Justin’s and leans in to kiss him again. Justin is levering himself up on one elbow to meet him, and Steve pushes even harder this time, opening his mouth and licking at Justin’s lips, feeling them part beneath him. Justin meets his every move, but it’s still Steve in charge.

He moves one hand down to Justin’s waist and slips his hand under Justin’s shirt, resting it on his hip, feeling Justin’s muscles tense under his touch, especially when he swipes his thumb over Justin’s hipbone, pressing slightly on the pressure point under his skin.

Justin shifts a bit and brings one of his arms up to rest gently on Steve’s hip, mirroring what Steve is doing to him, but making no move to seek out more intimate contact. Every so often Steve has to pull away from Justin’s mouth to breathe, but these breaks are few and far between.

Eventually, Steve rolls onto his back, tugging Justin with him. He moves them until Justin is settled half on top of him, and Steve can feel Justin’s hardness between them, even though he makes no move to touch. He’s carefully moving his hands further up underneath Justin’s shirt and teasing his fingers at the tip of Justin’s belt, pushing an inch or so underneath without any real purpose other than to just feel his skin. Justin makes one attempt to do the same, but Steve quickly captures his hands and moves them back to more comfortable territory. Justin’s touch is electric, and Steve’s not ready for it quite yet.

By the time they break apart to go back to the car, Steve is feeling flushed and warm from arousal, but the climb to the top of the dunes clears his head enough that he realizes what a bad idea it would be to do anything but ask Justin to drive him home. And it’s a good thing too, because when he finally looks at a clock it’s nearly 2:00am and they’ve been on beach for several hours. Steve still has work in the morning, and he’s betting Justin has the same. He has Justin park on the street instead of pulling into the driveway, and Steve gives him a quick peck on the cheek and a whispered promise of _Tomorrow_ before walking quickly up the driveway and disappearing into his house. He watches as Justin drives off down the road before going upstairs and falling easily into sleep.

***

Even though he only gets a few hours of sleep, Steve wakes up refreshed and heads down to the beach for his swim, and goes for a longer distance than normal, his body humming from the workout as he slices through the early morning surf.

Something must show on his face because when he gets to work Kono sidles up to him and gives him a quick but gentle elbow to the ribs. “So…” she says, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“So.”

“Do you really need me to ask the question?”

“You can ask, but a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Kono giggles. “So there _was_ kissing.”

“I do pay you to _work_ here, right?”

Which is precisely when Danny walks in, giving Steve an easy excuse to drop the conversation and actually get Kono to do what he pays her to do instead of standing around and gossiping about his (notably insane) love life.

It’s about 11:00 when Steve realizes that he needs to call Justin, so he shuts himself in his office to do it. He pulls Justin up on his contact list easily enough, but takes a minute before hitting the call button. Last night was nearly perfect, and Steve is loathe to spoil it with another night when everything can and has gone wrong in heartbeat. On the other hand, he’s generally not one to back down from a fight. In fact, he’s usually leading the charge, tossing grenades and pulling out his gun as he goes, and in this case his mind is made up to make the call before he even started debating it in the first place.

Justin’s smile is evident in the soft, “Hey,” he answers with.

“Hey yourself.” Steve bites his lip, unsure of whether to thank Justin for last night first or to just go all out and ask him for another date tonight.

Justin gets there first.

“Yeah,” Steve says when he asks. “Kono told me about this place. It’s supposed to be really popular, but I haven’t been yet.” This is a blatant lie, but Steve doesn’t have any other reason to know the really good local restaurants. Justin agrees and they set a time to meet at 6:00. The place is extremely casual so Steve can go straight from work, provided he remembers to leave his gun in his car or in his desk this time.

They talk for a while longer, until Steve notices that the rest of the team is gathering around the computer table without him. Danny’s arms are crossed and he’s pointedly staring in through Steve’s blinds and, Steve knows from experience, probably tapping his foot in annoyance.

“I’ve got to go, family stuff,” he says, “but I’ll see you later.” He waits for Justin’s goodbye before he hangs up and pockets the phone.

“By all means, take care of your love life before work,” Danny says. “The governor pays us to sit around and wait for you to be _ready_ to catch the bad guys. Oh wait.”

“Enough, Danny,” Steve cuts him off. Maybe his conversation did go on a bit long for the middle of the work day, but he is the boss, and they had all been working on separate things when he’d made the call.

By the end of the day, he’s fighting a headache that he knows is from having his jaw clenched shut all day, but there’s nothing he can do. He thinks for about half a minute about cancelling, but Kono appears at his side as though she can read his mind and punches him in the arm, in what he’s not-so-fondly starting to refer to as _her_ spot, which is still vaguely bruised from the last time she did it.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says.

And so Steve goes. Justin’s waiting for him when he gets there, and Steve remembers to lock the gun in the glove compartment, even though he had originally meant to leave it locked in his desk. (It’s not like he doesn’t have other weapons in the car and at home, should the need arise. Which he really hopes isn’t the case.)

The restaurant is crowded and noisy, but Justin’s managed to stake out a table for two next to one of the windows, and Steve gratefully sits down in the extra chair. He takes a moment to close his eyes against the noise and attempt to block out the headache that was already starting to overtake him from work before opening his eyes and focusing on Justin. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Justin says. “Are you OK?”

It’s an opening to say _Sorry, long day, I need to go home, can we reschedule?_ He knows Justin won’t question him too much about his excuses, but he’s already made up his mind to stay, and he’s not looking forward to yet _another_ bruise from Kono.

“Yeah,” Steve finally says. “It’s just been a long day. Lots of mini disasters.” Which really, is the truth, even though he knows Justin will interpret it in light of Steve’s made-up backstory.

“Family can be rough sometimes.”

Thinking of Mary and how disastrous her visits tend to be, Steve nods. He picks up the menu and glances over it quickly for show, since he already knows what his favorite is, and gets up to go place his order. Or he would, except that Justin is out of his chair within seconds telling him to sit down, he’ll go order. Steve thinks about fighting it, but realizes that it’s a lost battle already, so he tells Justin what he wants, gives him a quick kiss and sits back down.

Now that Steve appears to be sitting by himself, no less than three guys attempt to take Justin’s seat while he’s waiting in the line, and Steve wishes that he could just hang a sign or something to keep everyone from attempting to talk to him because he just wants to eat dinner in peace. He’s about to explode at the fourth person who attempts to sit down with him when he looks up and sees that it is Justin this time, and relaxes.

It’s loud enough that Steve can barely hear himself think, and the heat isn’t doing him any favors either, but they make small talk while they wait for their food, then eat it quickly. Steve leaves a few bills on the table for a tip and they leave, escaping into the cooler outside air.

Steve is suddenly exhausted, now that they’re outside where the noise level of the city on a Friday night is at least tolerable. Justin slips his arm around Steve’s waist and Steve leans into the contact. Steve’s car is parked close, but when Justin starts to move him in the opposite direction, Steve doesn’t fight it; he knows that when he really needs to go he can. They wander aimlessly for a while, turning the corner every so often, stopping to look at the tacky window displays in the tourist shops and crossing the street to avoid having to push through crowds in front of the clubs. Every so often Steve leans up to kiss Justin or he leans down. 

Eventually, though, they’re back where they started, and Steve steers them the few blocks to his car. There’s plenty of light from the street lamp above them and Steve can see disappointment written on Justin’s face as he says, “Tonight’s been great,”

“But...?”

Steve kisses him gently again, letting the touch linger and feeling Justin’s lips move under his own. “I’m exhausted from dealing with my family, and I probably won’t be good company tonight. I need to go home and sleep.”

“What about tomorrow?” Justin asks.

Steve lets his hands rest on Justin’s hips, fingertips sitting just above the waist line. “I can do tomorrow.”

“I’ll call you,” Justin promises, kissing Steve one more time and then opening the door for him as soon as it’s unlocked.

Just as he had the first night, he waits for Steve to start the car and drive away before he moves, and Steve can barely see him in the side mirror when he finally does turn around to presumably go back to his own car. By the time he gets home he already has a text from Justin, _Miss you already._ and Steve has to smile.

***

It’s noon on Saturday before when Justin finally calls. Steve spends the morning working out, doing laundry and cleaning the house and he’s finally sitting down to have something to eat when the phone rings.

“As much as I’m liking the whole casual local thing,” Justin says when Steve picks up. “I want to take you somewhere nice tonight.”

Steve nods, then remembers that he’s on the phone and Justin can’t actually see him and says “Sure.”

“How about Morimoto’s? I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Steve says, then hangs up. He manages to finish his lunch and wash the dishes before calling Kono.

It turns out that Kono is remarkably efficient when shopping, though when he gets a second to think about it, it really shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. From all the other clothes-related things she’s been doing for him in the last few weeks, she knows his size really well, so it only takes a few minutes for her to size up what each store is offering and send him into the dressing room with at least four selections. Despite Kono’s insistence that he looks good in most of the selections, it takes five different stores before he finds an outfit that he’s actually comfortable in. The dress has some sleeves and enough length to keep him from wanting to constantly pull it down.

The shoes are a whole different story, because Kono insists that he needs to wear heels, given where they’re going and what he’s wearing, but the heels don’t seem to come in heights of less than four inches.

By the time they get back to Steve’s place (with a quick stop at the drugstore where Kono leaves him in the car to run in for what she’s termed “supplies”), he’s got an hour to get ready. Kono pushes him into the bathroom and shoves a few things in his hand before closing the door behind her.

“What the hell, Kono?” he says when he finally looks at what he’s holding and finds that it’s a can of shaving cream and a razor.

“I presume you know how to use both of those,” she says. “Use those skills on your legs.” There’s a beat of silence before she also says, “And take a shower.”

Because he doesn’t have an argument for why he doesn’t need to be shaving his legs, he strips and starts running the shower. He cuts himself three times on his right ankle before he figures out how to do it without causing bodily injury, then cuts himself again on the left knee because he gets careless and starts going too fast when Kono knocks on the door and asks _are you done yet?_

“Fuck!” he yells in response as the blood appears on his knee.

“You have ten minutes,” Kono says. “Then I’m coming in.”

Steve takes his time finishing shaving then quickly soaps himself off and rinses some shampoo through his hair. By the time Kono’s back, Steve is wrapping a towel around his waist and reaching for the door before remembering that he’s got company and he’s pretty sure Kono doesn’t want to see him half-naked. He re-wraps the towel around his chest and emerges into his bedroom to find that Kono’s not in there anyway, but she’s laid out his outfit and shoes for him (after removing all the various tags and stickers). The dress is easy enough to get into himself, but he carries the shoes down the stairs instead of putting them on right away.

Spread out on the dining room table are more than a dozen makeup and makeup-related things, along with a tub of his hair gel, a necklace and some bracelets. Kono shoves the jewelry at his chest and orders him to put it on and sit, which he does before she gets started on applying his makeup, which seems to take much longer tonight than usual.

She’s just finishing when he sees Justin pull into the driveway, so he slips on his shoes, grabs the clutch purse that he's never seen before but which he has to assume Kono put together for him, even though he knows she’s more prone to keeping her wallet in her back pocket than carrying anything extra. He hasn’t had enough practice walking in the new shoes, but he hopes that the practice he put in last weekend will be enough.

“Lock the door behind you,” Steve tells her as he walks outside. He sees her grinning as he shuts the door and turns to where Justin’s pulled up behind her car in the driveway. He stumbles a bit on the uneven ground, but manages to keep his footing long enough to get into the car. Once the door is safely closed behind him he leans over to give Justin a quick kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Justin replies, grabbing Steve’s hand and weaving their fingers together. He doesn’t let go until they get to the restaurant and surrender the car to the valet.

The only other time Steve’s been here was right after he’d broken his arm. The place looks much different at night, with low lighting and candles on the tables. Theirs is at the edge of the dining room, in a quiet corner tucked away from the kitchen doors and the bar. Due to the design of the restaurant they can sit next to each other instead of across the table.

Steve can tell that the food is good, and that Morimoto’s reputation isn’t an exaggeration, but the finer points of the cuisine are lost on him, as all of his other senses are getting washed away in the waves of touch and warmth coming from Justin next to him. Some of it is probably the wine, too, as they’re most of the way through a bottle, now. Steve is sure that they’re getting looks from the other patrons, as they probably look like honeymooners, but Steve forces himself not to care, which is easier than it should be because he’s pretty sure that he’s had a lot more wine than Justin.

At this point, Steve knows better than to even try to pay, but this time, even his attempts to look at the bill are thwarted with a slight shift away from him and an gentle elbow to the ribs from Justin. Steve has just enough time to wonder if his skills are getting sloppy or if Justin just has him pegged that easily before he’s distracted by yet another kiss as their server swoops in to grab Justin’s card.

When they finally do leave, Justin stops to open the door for Steve, but Steve doesn’t climb into the car right away. “I --” he hesitates, not quite knowing how to finish the sentence. Instead he kisses Justin again.

“Me too,” Justin responds, and even though there wasn’t really a question asked, Steve knows what he’s saying. “Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?”

Justin’s voice is quiet, and he seems unsure of the answer, even though Steve thinks it should be obvious. Except maybe not, because it’s not like he’s given Justin a reason to think that he might not want to follow through on whatever he’s saying yes to. “Yeah,” he finally says, between kisses. Now that it’s out there between them, Steve loses track of time as they continue until three seconds or five minutes or an hour later when some passerby clears his throat loudly and makes a point of glaring at them on his way back out to his car.

Steve laughs, and Justin smiles sheepishly. “We should probably go,” Justin says, pulling away from Steve so that he can climb into the car.

The drive predictably takes forever (or at least feels like it). Justin’s holding his hand the whole time, again, and leans over to kiss him at traffic lights and in general drives way too slowly for Steve’s taste, but they eventually pull into the parking lot of a complex on the edge of town. Steve’s not overly familiar with the neighborhood, but it looks decent enough, and when they get inside he finds that Justin’s apartment is simple but clean, with a few books and a computer on the desk in the corner, a few family pictures scattered around and an oversized flatscreen dead center in the living room. It reminds Steve of some of his own past apartments. His train of thought is interrupted when Justin comes up behind him and wraps an arm around his waist, angling his head to kiss the corner of Steve’s neck in just the right spot.

“About that drink,” Justin whispers in Steve’s ear.

Justin is hitting all the pressure points that Steve didn’t know he had and he melts in Justin’s arms, leaning back so that he’s touching as much of Justin as he can without turning around. He turns his head back to kiss Justin, and they stay like that until the awkward angle forces Steve to break apart and turn around so that he can wrap his arms around Justin’s shoulders and continue what they were doing.

“I think the drinks can wait.”

Steve figures out which door is most likely the bedroom and starts moving in that direction, pulling Justin with him. The bedroom is just the same as the rest of the apartment, neat and simple, with the bed made nicely and tucked into a corner. Once they’re through the doors, Justin takes charge again, and soon Steve finds himself sitting on the bed with Justin kneeling on the floor between his knees, reaching down to remove his shoes. Justin runs his hands back up Steve’s legs, thumbs skimming the inside of his thighs, but he stops at the hemline of the dress and looks up at Steve, who isn’t thinking perfectly clearly, but knows that saying yes to that just yet will end badly. Instead, he grabs Justin’s shirt, undoing the top buttons before untucking it and pulling upwards as hard as he can. Justin complies and brings his arms up and helps Steve remove the shirt altogether. Steve takes the opportunity to lie back on the bed, and Justin comes with him, tangling their legs together as they try to move into a position that doesn’t have both of them only half on the bed.

Once they’re settled, Justin pauses for a minute. “Are you OK?” he asks. 

The question is more than just asking if Steve’s comfortable in their current position. There’s more weight to it, and Steve knows that he’s being asked if he’s _OK_ with everything, and Steve thinks about it before leaning in to kiss Justin softly before answering, “Yes.”

Justin rolls Steve onto his back, and starts working his way down Steve’s body with his hands, with his mouth. Even over the fabric of Steve’s dress his touch is electric, and Steve suddenly knows that he wants _more_. More of Justin’s hands, more of his mouth, more everything, so he sits up and tries to reach the zipper, but while he can reach it, the fabric pulls in a weird way and refuses to come undone. When he utterly fails, Justin laughs gently at him, but moves to do it himself, gently pulling the straps forward and over Steve’s shoulders. Steve is both very glad and somewhat unnerved that Kono insisted he didn’t need a bra in this dress because now he’s half-naked, too, the air cooling his overheated skin. 

Justin reaches for him again, but hesitates, probably remembering the last time they got to this point. Steve is determined not to let that happen again, so he meets Justin halfway, grabbing Justin’s hand and moving it to his stomach, leaning back so that he can get the stupid dress out from under his hips and kick it to the floor.

Justin topples onto him, and just the contact between their chests is better than Steve expected. He strains up to kiss Justin again, before Justin moves down to repeat the same pattern as before, hesitating slightly before smoothing his hands over Steve’s breasts. Steve feels that same electric shock as before, but he’s prepared for it this time, he knows to expect it, knows what it is and lets the sensation flood into him, blotting out the small part of his mind that still wants to run away.

When Justin reaches the seam of his underwear he hesitates, toying with the edges on Steve’s hips and looking up at him for permission before going any further. Steve nods, feeling remarkably free because while it’s the first time he’s let another man see him like this, it’s not _his_ body, and remembering that makes it easier this time around. Steve knows he’s not going to run this time.

Once Justin’s gotten rid of the underwear, he moves back up, kissing Steve slowly, deeply, like they have all the time in the world. Which, Steve thinks with the last bit of coherent though he has, they do. He hitches a leg up over Justin's hip, pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve's hands can't reach much more than Justin's arms and back and sides, but he seeks out every bit of skin that he can, the same way Justin is doing to him. Justin breaks off and nuzzles his way to the corner of Steve's neck, trailing his lips everywhere. There's a faint sensation of scraping, which Steve realizes is Justin's scruff. It's roughing up his neck, and face, but it's almost immediately soothed by Justin's lips every time. 

Despite Steve's nearly iron grip on Justin's arms, he somehow manages to break free and start moving down. He spends time sucking and biting each nipple in turn, using the warmth of his mouth and relative coolness of his breath to make Steve arch his back, desperate to get more. One of Justin's hands trails down Steve's side to his hip, thumb working circles on Steve's skin, but more or less staying where it is. 

Between that and the way Justin's hands are finding every sensitive spot on his chest Steve is about to burst. He pulls Justin up for another kiss, and manages to get out a breathy, "Please." 

That does it, Justin presses Steve back into the mattress and buries himself between Steve’s legs. He uses his hand first, brushing Steve's clit with the thumb that had been driving him crazy. He kisses down Steve's stomach, occasionally using his teeth just a bit, before finally bending to it, using his lips and tongue to drive Steve crazy while his hands roam everywhere else at once. 

The physical sensations are completely different than Steve’s used to, but the arousal zipping down his spine and settling low in his stomach is exactly the same. Justin somehow knows exactly how to bring Steve to the edge and keep him there without letting him fall and keeps him there for what feels like forever until a gentle scrape of teeth on his clit pushes him over. Steve arches his neck and grips the sheets under him as he rides out his orgasm and it leaves him loose limbed and weak, his heart pounding and his breath coming in short gasps.

“Come here,” he says to Justin, voice rough, and Justin obeys, moving up to lie next to Steve and kiss him, slow and deep. He hooks his legs around Justin’s to bring him closer and notices that Justin’s both still wearing his pants and very clearly hard, his erection digging into Steve’s hip through the fabric. Almost as an experiment, Steve rolls his hips, feeling Justin push back against him looking for _more_.

Steve reaches a hand between them and fumbles with Justin’s belt, getting it open easily and moving on to the button of his pants. He palms Justin through the fabric for the first time, feeling the heat and reveling in how _familiar_ and _different_ and _good_ and _right_ it is. He rolls them over, to get Justin on his back again. He's repeating the treatment he got, play by play. He kisses the spot under Justin's left ear and feels him shiver. He scrapes a fingernail down Justin's chest and over his nipple, feeling the hard muscles jump and relax under his fingers. He licks the path his fingers have made and he can feel Justin's hips bucking up under him. Eventually, Steve makes his way down Justin’s body, tracing the line of Justin's boxers before pulling the waist out and easing Justin’s pants and boxers past his cock and off his hips. 

Once he takes care of Justin's pants, he looks up to find that he's up propped up on his elbows, watching Steve carefully. His body is tight, even though he's trying to look relaxed, and Steve knows that Justin is trying to gauge his reaction. He runs his hands up over Justin's legs, over downy soft hair, dropping his thumbs to run up the inside of Justin's thighs. He watches as Justin's cock jumps when he gets close. 

He doesn't go there right away, though. He bends and bites Justin's hipbone, the V of muscle that stands out, using his fingers to soothe over after his teeth. Steve stretches back up to kiss Justin, quick and hard, almost clashing their teeth together. He's still nervous about doing this, about taking one more step, but it's just them, and Justin seems to be happy with whatever Steve can give him. With one last kiss, Steve changes positions one more time and curls himself around Justin's hips, draping his arm across Justin's stomach and hooking one leg around Justin's.

The position helps him separate who he's with from what he's doing. It's a futile distinction, but making this less personal is helping. It's not about Justin's reactions anymore, it's about Steve learning to do this to someone who isn't himself. 

He digs his fingers into Justin's hip with one hand, and with the other tentatively reaches for Justin's cock. He palms the shaft first, feeling the skin slide under his hand. Justin gasps behind him. Encouraged, Steve slides his hand back up, this time palming the tip, feeling Justin's precome spreading over his palm. _That'll stick later,_ he thinks idly, before pushing all stray thoughts out of his had and finally wrapping his fingers around Justin's cock. On the surface it doesn't feel that much different from doing this himself. Justin is a different shape, but it's still a dick, and he's got plenty of practice with that.

Steve carefully starts moving his hand again, feeling Justin twitch in response. When a hand comes up to twine in Steve's hair he shakes his head, not wanting to go there. Justin may not be overtly pushing for a blow job, but Steve knows that move, he's used it himself, and he knows that he can't do that, not tonight. He reaches up and gently moves Justin's hand to his shoulder to give him something to hold on to and goes back to what he's doing. He starts slowly, paying more attention to mapping out the veins and ridges, feeling Justin's responses to every touch. 

Once he's done exploring, Steve tightens his grip and begins to move his hand in a rhythm. It's not all that fast yet, but he'll get there, He knows how it feels, the gradual build from slow and gentle. He takes his time, but he's working steadily now, moving down to cup Justin's balls and back up to run his palm or fingers or thumb over the head. He can feel Justin tense up, Justin's hand has moved to Steve's hip and he squeezes, and a second later Justin's coming, leaving white ropes on his stomach and on Steve's chest and hands. Steve loosens his grip, but keeps stroking gently, feeling Justin relax under him. He keeps going until Justin is nearly soft again before releasing him and abandoning his position so that he can go back to kiss Justin one more time before pulling back and using Justin's chest for his pillow while they both cool off. 

They lie there for a an indeterminable length of time before Steve shivers and Justin laughs and suggests that they get under the covers. Steve pulls the sheet up to his waist and watches Justin take a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before turning his attention to Steve, too. It’s been a while since Steve has slept in a bed that’s not his own, and while he's generally not good at sleeping in strange places, the combination of the afterglow and the heat from the warm body next to him is making him drowsy. It isn’t long before Steve drifts into a light sleep with Justin wrapped around him, their fingers laced together.

***

When he wakes up the next morning he finds that they’ve shifted positions during the night and he’s now lying half on Justin’s chest, using his shoulder for a pillow. Judging by the steady breathing he can hear Justin is still asleep, so Steve takes care to move as little as possible so that he doesn’t wake him.

It’s comfortable, waking up like this, with someone else, with _Justin_ , but Steve knows that it can’t last forever, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be “Jaime.” While he really does like Justin, and while last night was a revelation in more ways than he can actually articulate to his partner, it should probably be the end; even if he is stuck in this body for who knows how long.

“Stop thinking,” Justin says, voice still heavy from sleep. “I can hear you in my dreams.”

“I hope they’re good ones,” Steve says, tilting his head back to kiss Justin good morning. The kiss is just that, a kiss, and there’s no push for it to turn into something more. Instead, they stay tangled together under the sheets for a long time, until Steve finally pulls back and rolls out of bed and into the bathroom, scooping up his clothes along the way.

He feels overdressed and somewhat silly when he emerges to find Justin in just a pair of sweats, scrubbing a hand through his hair, probably to fix his bedhead but only succeeding in making it stand up even more. Steve laughs.

“Do you want some coffee?” Justin asks.

They do need to talk, so Steve says, “yes,” and they both move into the kitchen.

With the coffee brewing, Justin starts the conversation by asking when Steve’s planning on going back to the mainland, and Steve knows exactly why he’s asking. It makes everything that much easier.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

They talk for a long time over breakfast scrounged from Justin’s almost bare cabinets, and when Justin drops Steve off at home and kisses him goodbye, Steve knows that this is the end of whatever this has been between them. As usual, Justin waits for Steve to open the door, but this time Steve stays on the stoop to watch him pull out of the driveway and leave.

To distract himself, he changes clothes and goes out for a run, pushing himself to get back to both the pace and endurance he had with his old body, and by the time he gets home he finds two missed calls and a voicemail from Kono, one from Danny and a text from a number he doesn’t recognize, but signed _Grace_ saying that she hopes he feels better soon so he can take her to the beach, because Danno doesn’t like the sun and spends the whole time they’re on the beach complaining. Not that it’s actually any different when he’s there (if anything, Danno probably complains even _more_ and just for Steve’s benefit), but Steve enjoys it all the same. Not to mention there’s his ongoing (and so far, very successful) campaign to turn Gracie as Hawaiian as he can. Danny’s voicemail is a warning that he’s caved to demand and given Steve’s number to Grace, and to not believe a word of anything she tells him, especially not the part about him not taking her to the beach, because they’ve already spent too much time on the beach and _I don’t need her to walk away from this damn island with skin cancer_.

Steve doesn’t have to listen to Kono’s message to know that she’s digging for information on how things went with Justin, and he’s not ready to answer her just yet. Instead, he showers and finds plenty of things to do around the house, and keeps going until he should have been in bed an hour ago because he needs to swim in the morning before work.

By the time he does crawl into bed, he’s asleep quickly from a combination of physical and emotional exhaustion and doesn’t dream at all. 

END PART 1

Monday morning comes early, as it always does, but despite the fact that he only crawled into bed about four and a half hours ago, Steve wakes up refreshed and not tired at all. It takes about as long as the distance between his bed and the bathroom before he realizes _why_ that is and stops short, because he’s himself again, with all the right parts in all the right places. He stretches his arms up above his head, feeling every muscle contract and relax in turn and just enjoying the fact that they’re _his_ again. He heads out for a swim, and once he gets into the water he swims as fast and hard as he can push himself, because there’s nothing like the exhaustion that comes from working every muscle at once, and just like it did on that first morning, it lets him own his own body once more.

He’s a few minutes late to work because he stayed in the water too long, but he doesn’t care, even when Danny is the first one to see him walk in and immediately starts ragging him for it.

“Look what finally washed up on the beach,” he says, making a show of dragging a hand through Steve’s still-wet hair. “Literally, I assume.”

Steve ignores the comment along with the slight shiver he has to suppress at Danny’s casual touch (putting aside why he has to do that for a later time when he’s not at work or standing next to the very observant source of whatever-this-is.)

“Welcome back, Boss,” Kono says.

“Good to see you,” Chin says before going back to his computer.

Kono follows Steve into his office and shuts the door, not even letting him sit down before she starts asking questions.

“Spill. Something must have happened because you’re you again.”

Steve really isn’t ready to discuss what happened with Justin with her yet, even though he knows that she’ll eventually get the whole story. “Can we talk about it later? I have a shitload of phone calls to make that I couldn’t do on Friday or any time in the last two weeks, and I assume that Danny’s head is going to explode if I don’t sign all the case reports today.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Kono says. “I’ll pick up the beer on my way over tonight.” She leaves before he has a chance to argue, and Steve picks up the phone to call the Governor.

He sticks out the day and finished the paperwork he owes Danny because being on Danny's bad side is not somewhere that Steve ever wants to be. 

It's just as well that nothing happens at work, because by the time Steve gets home he's exhausted. He has just enough time to use the bathroom and open up the Lanai doors when Kono shows up and walks in without knocking. She puts the beers in the fridge, but keeps two for them, popping off the tops before passing one over. Steve sits in one of the deck chairs and Kono takes the other, neither of them talking for a while. 

Living alone, Steve's gotten used to sitting in silence, but Kono isn't quite as good and she starts fidgeting, so Steve starts talking. 

Steve tells her about Saturday, glossing over most of it with a handwave, but she gets the idea if her smirk is anything to judge by. Then he tells her that they broke up the next morning and gets a smack to the back of the head for his trouble.

“It worked out, didn’t it?” he says.

“That depends on your definition,” she says.

Steve frowns. “I can’t call him now. He doesn’t know _me_ , and it’s best that he thinks I just went back to the mainland and that’s that.” When Kono pointedly refuses to respond, Steve keeps going. “I know him because I was him. Well, close enough. He’s career military, perfectly straight, and as nice of a guy as he is, I’m not what he’s looking for. He wasn’t exactly heartbroken, if that’s what you’re after.”

“You should tell him,” Kono says.

Steve doesn’t have an answer to that. He knows he should, but he also knows that the reactions to it could be phenomenally bad, and he doesn’t want to overshadow the good memories from the last few weeks with whatever would fall on his head following full disclosure. “Maybe,” he says. “He’s probably better off not knowing.”

“It’s not your call. He deserves better than that.”

She’s right, of course she is, but for right now Steve allows himself a little bit of selfishness.

They stay silent for a while, until Kono clears her throat. “Moving on, then.”

“No.”

“I saw your face. You are not going to cut me off now.”

Steve finishes his beer and gets to to get more. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"You keep telling yourself that, Boss." 

There's nothing he can say to that will throw her off the scent she's obviously picked up, and so Steve finishes his errand and comes back with more beer and some chips. "So, enough about me," he says, finally. "Tell me about your weekend." 

"Which you know full well was spent staring at the phone and wanting to know what was going on with you." 

Well, Steve thought, that was probably at least partly true. Even so, he's not about to tell her about the half-formed epiphanies he's been having, mostly because he's not sure exactly what they are, only that they're important and that figuring it out is really only half the battle because he's just one person. 

Kono seems to get the idea that she shouldn't push at those particular buttons just yet and changes the topic. She wants to have some sort of team night soon and manages to get Steve to agree to host the party. They decide that barring the apocalypse or a new case Friday is a good day for the thing.

Suddenly, Steve knows exactly how to get revenge on Kono.

***

The week passes too quickly for Steve to have a moment to stop and think about anything. They chase down and lock up a few new scumbags, Steve shoots things and gets Danny to gripe at him for how trigger happy he is. He even gets to use explosives.

Everything is back to normal on the surface, but when they're not in the field, Danny's spending more time in his office with the door closed than he used to (at least it feels that way to Steve), and even Kono has backed off to where she's just watching quietly and not confronting Steve about his feelings every half hour. It would be just fine if he didn't feel like he was living in a fishbowl. 

By the time Friday rolls around, there's no new case and no getting out of playing host to the team. Kono has apparently taken care of everything, including getting Chin to cook up his famous Hawaiian fish with pineapple on the grill, and all Steve really has to do is open the door when people start arriving after work. She's apparently even gotten Danny to agree to bring drinks. 

Steve is on his way out of the office when he pulls out his phone and brings up Justin's number. He's been thinking about this all week, but hasn't had the guts to do it yet, but he's running out of time. He quickly types out an invitation, saying that his 'brother' is throwing the party and that Kono had been asking about him all week and that she was guaranteed to be there. It's technically completely true, if misleading. And Steve hopes that he shows up. 

When he gets home (carrying another case of beer, just to be sure), Kono's already there, setting things up on the lanai, and it turns out that Danny isn't far behind, having apparently stopped long enough at home to change into a t-shirt and jeans and slippers. 

Steve's seen him in that outfit many times at this point. Hell, he's seen Danny in less than that, but it still makes his heart skip a beat and his toes curl as he takes in the way the shirt seems to cling and outline every muscle on Danny's chest. Steve hurries out to Danny's car to unload the beer as an excuse to get away from the man himself. 

This is, of course, the exact moment when Justin's car pulls into the driveway. Steve panics for half a second before he remembers that there's no way Justin would really know him, and besides, the text had said Kono was the one asking about him. Justin's only the slightest bit hesitant getting out of his car. 

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Kono Kalakaua?" 

Steve smiles and holds out his hand to shake Justin's, the feeling familiar and comforting and new all at the same time. He's meeting Justin on a completely different playing field this time. 

"I'm Steve," he says. "Kono's out back on the lannai." He gestures to Danny's car, and the trunk where a few boxes of beer are waiting. "Give me a hand here and I'll show you the way." 

Steve goes first along the worn footpath around the side of the house, and he can hear Justin behind him, breathing mostly evenly as he follows. For a second, before they emerge into plain sight, he wishes that he hadn't sent that text and that Justin wasn't here with them, about to step into their home-grown ohana and all the craziness that tends to follow them everywhere. But then he rounds the bend just in time to see Danny attempting to shake off Kono, who is attempting to "straighten" his hair. Danny is batting ineffectually at her hands (she seems to have about five, the way Danny's hair keeps getting messier and messier). 

Kono stills suddenly, and Danny declares victory, but Steve knows that it's a hollow one, because Kono has been completely distracted by his guest. Danny just gives him a puzzled look, because this was supposed to be just for them, and he hasn't actually met Justin yet. Steve starts counting minutes until that particular shoe drops. It won't take long. Danny really is a very good detective.

Kono takes the case from Justin. "I see you've met my boss, Steve." 

"So he's the crazy one," Justin says. "Nice to meet you." 

"I like this guy," Danny interjects. He elbows Steve in the ribcage and says, "He gets it." 

"Justin, this is Danny," Kono says. "He's a mainlander, too." 

"Military?" Justin asks. Steve knows the question. There are just some places that you don't move unless you don't have a choice. Hawaii may be a great vacation spot, but it's a hard move to make. 

"Followed my daughter and my ex wife out here. And then somehow got roped into this band of misfits. They claim that I might someday like it." 

"So you're Jamie's brother, then." 

Steve cringes, because he never quite got around to telling Danny all the details of his weeks as Jamie. Deliberately. But Steve knows that he'll figure it out pretty quickly. The real question is whether he'll start talking before Steve does and give the game away. He looks at Kono, and she gives him an awkward half smile, showing that she was thinking the same thing. 

"What are you --?" Danny says. 

Steve can see when the hammer hits. The confusion on Danny's face is quickly replaced with a too-innocent smile that Steve really does not like. At all. 

"Justin. Right. She mentioned you."

"Good things, I hope," Justin says. 

Danny smiles. "The best. We're really close, me and Jamie. She tells me everything." 

Steve really is going to have to give Kono that promotion, because she rescues him by slinging an arm around Justin's shoulders and leading him away. "C'mon, I'll show you around." 

Danny smooths down his hair one more time and crosses his arms while watching them go. "You know," he says, leaning into Steve's space. "I kinda get it. Not something I'd do, but I can see it." 

Steve's heart falls just a bit, and he has to struggle to keep his face straight. "He hit it off with Kono the other day, so I thought I'd get revenge on her." 

"By attempting to make her happy? You are the best at revenge, my friend." 

He's saved the trouble of coming up with a retort when Chin, Malia, Max, Charlie and Kamekona all arrive at once, carrying a cooler that is probably filled with more food than the entire neighborhood can eat. 

For the next few hours, Steve drifts in and out of conversations with everyone, most of it revolving around work, and when Justin's part of it, involving Danny's vociferous opinion on just how crazy Steve is, including a recitation of all the times he's been shot at since joining Five-0. Which Steve thinks should be considered free-form poetry at this point, especially given the number of times he's heard the thing. 

Malia is the first to yawn, and it proves to be highly contagious. Within minutes, they're helping Steve carry dishes inside and clean up the lanai. Danny plunges his hands into the battle for the sink, and Steve goes to clean and pack up the grill. There's not that much to do outside, and so it feels like only a few minutes before he nearly has his house to himself again. Kono and Justin have wandered out together, but Danny's still inside cursing at the dishes. 

Steve picks up one of the last few cold beers and sits on the grass. Danny joins him a few minutes later, splotches of water on his shirt, making it cling even more invitingly to his chest. 

"So, Justin," Danny says, unceremoniously flopping to the ground next to Steve. 

It takes all of Steve's self control not to move away when Danny ends up sitting too close, and even more not to lean into his space. Danny said that he didn't want this, and so Steve is going to respect those boundaries, even if it kills him. 

"Do we really need to talk about this?" He's gotten more or less used to Kono prying into his heart, but what Danny stands to find is much more dangerous to them both. 

"Yes, we do. Well you do and I'm nosy. So let me guess, you turn into a chick, sleep with this guy and turn back, is that it?"

Steve chokes on his beer, and spends more time than he actually needs getting his breath back. Danny's a good detective but he's not that good, is he? Or is Steve really just that transparent. In which case he needs to find the emergency exit for this conversation. He drains his beer and makes an attempt to get up, but Danny's arms are suddenly holding him back. 

"You do know that you are allowed to talk about your feelings, right? They are not going to revoke your SEAL membership over it. Evolve, my Neanderthal friend." 

"I'm not required to tell you all of them," Steve says. It's the only way he can think of to get out of this conversation, knowing that a simple _I don't want to talk about it_ isn't going to cut it this time. 

Danny's still holding onto his arm, and even though it's still warm outside, even by Hawai'is tropical standards, the sharp contrast between Danny's hand and his bare skin exposed is giving him goosebumps. 

"Secrets within units is a bad idea," Danny says, his tone light. "Don't they teach you that in bootcamp? We are a unit, Steve. We're a team. Ohana." 

The light spilling out from the house is just enough for Steve to see that Danny is only half-teasing him. Steve wants to tell him, but he doesn't think he has the right words. He's never been good with words anyway, and Kono would probably tell him that this, right here, is why he ended up in his predicament to begin with. She'd also probably smack him and tell him that he's being an idiot. 

It's not that there's nothing to lose by following through with his newly hatched hair-brained scheme, because there's everything to lose. But without the right words he's going to lose it anyway and so Steve grabs Danny's neck and pulls him close, resting his forehead against Danny's for a beat before crossing the last chasm and kissing him. 

They don’t stay that way for long. It's an awkward position and Danny doesn't respond, so after a mere few seconds that nonetheless feel like hours, Steve pulls back, shakes Danny's arm off and goes inside seeking refuge. 

From his bedroom window he can see Danny get up and move out of sight towards the house, and Steve strains to hear the sound of Danny's Camaro firing up and carrying him away from the house. 

He's in the middle of pulling his shirt off when he hears footsteps in the bedroom instead. "If you're here to tell me that I'm insane," Steve starts. He never gets the chance to finish because suddenly Danny's _there_ , one hand at the back of his neck and the other covering his mouth so that he can't continue speaking. The only thing he can do, other than grabbing Danny and holding on for dear life is to pull his shirt off his arms and ball it up in his fist at his side. He clutches at it desperately, because if he doesn't have something in his hands he's going to end up grabbing onto Danny. 

"Do I get a turn now? Or are you going to put words in my mouth again." Danny moves his hand from Steve's mouth to his shoulder, effectively pinning him in place. 

"Again?" Steve says. "I never…" 

"Do not argue with me." 

"I'm –"

Danny's hand is on his mouth again, cutting off his words. "What did I just say?"

Steve nods. 

"You," Danny says, "Are an idiot. You do not get to pull a stunt like that and run away. I'm going to go ahead and guess that something in that big stupid head of yours was following through on a variant of _actions speak louder than words_ am I correct? Nod yes." 

Steve does, and Danny keeps talking. 

"But there are some words that are questions. And questions are meant to be answered. You, you jerk, ran away before I could give you an answer." 

Danny moves his hand, but before Steve has time to do more than draw a breath, Danny's kissing him this time, holding him in place. 

Steve's eyes flutter closed and he drops the shirt in favor of holding onto Danny's hips, his shoulders, his hair. Steve buries his fingers in Danny's hair, knowing that it will be messed up beyond all recognition and that he'll get lots of crap from Danny about it later, but right now he's beyond caring. 

Three weeks ago he'd have shoved Danny away and fled if he'd tried this. Three weeks ago he wouldn't have kissed Danny first. 

Steve's sudden introspection is interrupted by Danny breaking away and muttering something along the lines of _too fucking tall_ before Steve is being shoved roughly backwards until his knees hit the bed and he falls, bringing Danny with him, since he absolutely refuses to let go.

Danny lets out a little _oof_ when he lands and Steve can't help but laugh. They're in an awkward position, half hanging off the bed, clutching onto each other with limbs poking into weird places at first, but eventually they manage to get themselves situated and fully on the bed, heads more or less where the pillows should go, Danny's leg draped over Steve's hips, and Steve's arm wrapped around Danny's shoulders. It's the most comfortable he can remember being with another person, like they were specifically designed to slot together both by day and by night. 

They're kissing again, lazily, like they have all the time in the world, and maybe they do. Danny's hands begin to wander, down Steve's side, playing with the hair on his chest, with his nipples. Steve's starting to get hard, finally understanding that yes, this is what he wants. 

This, right here, with Danny. Danny, who has the most amazing hands, who seems to be trying to map out every inch of Steve's chest. Danny, who is pressing his hips into Steve's own, showing him exactly what he's feeling. 

Steve breaks off, and pulls his hands back, moving his hips so that Danny's arousal isn't quite so obvious. Sure he's done this before, but he's only done this once, and he's still unsure of the whole thing. Despite everything, there's still a large part of his brain that wants him to shove Danny away and run, as far and as fast as he can before something bad happens. 

"Words, Steven. Use your words," Danny says. There's a wrinkle on his forehead, the one he gets when he's worried. Steve has always wanted to smooth it away, but he's never let himself even think that. This time he reaches up to Danny's face, and it melts away, leaving a soft, open-mouthed smile in its wake.

The right words aren't where Steve wants them, and so he tries to pull Danny closer again, to affirm that yes, this is what he wants. But of course Danny blocks him. 

"Act like an adult, big guy. Come on." 

"Last time I looked this was a very adult thing to do." 

Danny hits him. "Tell me what is wrong, Steven. In words." 

"I just…" Steve wants to spill the entire story of his fling with Justin, and he probably will eventually, but that will take too much time right now, and he really _does_ want to go back to kissing Danny again. It's just the rest of it that he's not sure of.

Danny runs a thumb over Steve's collarbone and it sends a shiver down Steve's spine, forcing him to take in a breath. He moves a hand to Danny's hip and burrows up under his shirt. "It's not a race, OK?" 

"Who said it was?" Danny asks, but he seems to get the picture. "There's no finish line, Steve."

"Well…" Steve has to smile, because there's a rather big line he'd like to get to tonight. 

"Fine. I'm wrong. But if sex is uncomfortable then we're doing it wrong. So it's all up to you, big guy." 

Steve takes his opening. "I'll show you big." 

And then they're kissing again, and Danny's still laughing, and still wearing a shirt, which is both good and bad, so Steve flips them over, kneeling half between Danny's legs and reaches to take it off. 

He has seen Danny shirtless before, but it's different this time because now he can reach out and touch. He can smooth down the hair on Danny's chest and then tangle his fingers in it. Danny hates when Steve does that to the hair on his head, but this time he's groaning and pressing into the touch, like he can't get enough of it. Steve leans back down and kisses Danny's neck, biting at the muscle at the joint of his shoulder, soothing it back down with his tongue. Tasting Danny the way he's never let himself want. 

"Jesus, McGarrett," Danny groans. "I know I said we'd go slow but glaciers move faster than this." 

Maybe it's just that he's the one on top now, but this time he's not ready to bolt when he moves his hand down to Danny's belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. He can see how hard Danny is through the fabric, and he wants to see more. He carefully peels back Danny's pants and boxers, helped along when Danny lifts his hips, letting Steve get in a gratuitous grope while he's at it. He pulls Danny's pants down just enough so that he can kick them off himself while Steve moves back off the bed to shed his own in one quick move. 

He looks up to find that Danny's half-sitting up, leaning on his elbows and looking appreciatively. His hair is sticking up in tufts. Danny shifts so that he can hold out a hand. "Come back here." 

Steve takes it, and tangles their fingers together as he falls. Danny tangles their legs together, too, but Steve's the one who presses closer, he wants to be so much closer, he wants to get lost in Danny, here, now. A few twists of his hips and he's there, right on the edge. He moves a hand between them, into the space that doesn't even exist so that he can wrap his hand around both their dicks, feeling the unfamiliar length of Danny right alongside himself. 

Danny is clutching onto him, with his arms, with his legs, holding so tightly that Steve doesn't think they'll ever come apart. They're attached at the lips, too, Steve kissing with everything he has left. Time means nothing anymore, but he finds the edge first and dives off headfirst, like he's been trained for this. He can feel Danny's spasms a moment later, spilling over his hands and onto both their stomachs. Danny's hold tightens, and Steve keeps up the slow movement of his hand until every ounce of energy he ever had is gone, and he slowly falls back to earth, back to the bed next to Danny, still tangled together. 

He's lost the ability to move, even enough to raise his head and kiss Danny again, but with his head tucked into Danny's neck he can still reach some skin. 

"I swear to god, McGarrett, if you give me a hickey you're the one who gets to answer any questions."

***

Danny is right about the hickey, but it's mostly faded by the time they go back to work on Monday. Well, the first one is. There are a few more in places not visible to the general public, but that's fine, because Steve isn't going to have to answer questions about those.

Probably. This is Five-0, and their days tend not to be completely typical. 

They're not touching when they walk in. Chin's working on the computer table and he immediately notices the faded bruise when he looks up. 

"You get some this weekend, brah? Is it Gabby again? I thought you two broke up." 

"Not Gabby," Danny says. 

"Come on, man. Details!" Kono calls from her office, She abandons her paperwork to come join them all in the bullpen. 

"My personal life is personal," Danny attempts to defend himself. "So all of you nosy nellies can fuck right off." 

Steve can't help the smile that's starting to creep up his face. Some fading part of him wants to run, to kill the smile on his face and deny everything, but he reminds himself that this is his ohana. And nothing stays secret between them for long. 

Kono catches the smile first because she's gotten very good at reading him in the last few weeks. She looks between him and Danny a few times before breaking into a smile herself. "About time, Boss." 

Danny raises his hands and starts in on Kono, but Steve is too full of happiness to actually hear the words. He sees Chin give him a congratulatory nod before jumping in with Danny to go after Kono. 

And just like that Steve feels normal again, laughing at Danny's non-anger, letting his partner into everything that he is. He's not sure how he'll handle the world at large, but then, the world can mind it's own fucking business. He reaches out and wraps an arm around Danny's shoulder, because the only thing Steve is absolutely sure about is that he's going to hold on with everything that he has. 

And that if this is the new normal, then Steve is pretty sure he can get used to it.

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to Donutsweeper for sticking with me through the full year and some it took to finish this fic and get it up on the internets. And to everyone else for putting up with my bitching while I did so.


End file.
